


Everything is Blue

by nishiki



Series: Colors [1]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Circus, Coming of Age, Daddy Issues, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Guilt, Kurt beeing sweet, Kurt the hero, Kurt's foster family, Life Lessons, M/M, Mutant Hate, Nightsilver will happen in flashback, Post-X-Men: Apocalypse (2016), Pre-X-Men: Apocalypse (2016), Self-Blame, Self-Sacrifice, a trip down memory lane, and at the end, dealing with the possibility of loss, growing up blue, movieverse, my take on Kurt's backstory, otherwise only Peter being fluffy and worrying about his blueberry, peter confronts his dad, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-09 08:30:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 58,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11100804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishiki/pseuds/nishiki
Summary: As a rescue mission goes wrong, Kurt Wagner, the incredible Nightcrawler, relives the memories of his childhood and early adolescence in the very conservative world that is South Germany, where everything that does not appear to be normal is deemed to be the work of the devil. At the same time, Peter Maximoff is faced with the very real possibility of losing the only person he truly loves as he tries to find a way to repair what he has broken and maybe even reconnect with his father at last.





	1. Prolog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire story was supposed to be a one-shot, but after a while, I decided that the story would get too long to comfortably read it in one go, so I decided to split the fragments into separate chapters and flesh each chapter out a little more. You will find that every chapter will start with Peter's POV followed by a fragment of Kurt's childhood memories.

»Kurt, don't!« Peter's voice rung in his ears, terrified, but it was already too late. With a loud _BAMF_ Kurt was gone in a cloud of dark blue smoke and when he rematerialized inside the building to get the last kid out safely, he knew he had fucked up big time. He was too close, the explosion imminent. He knew that he was doomed the very moment he quickly wrapped his left arm around the little girl and heard her shrill terrified screech and yet, with another loud _BAMF_ he wished himself and the girl into safety.

He had been told that he would see his life flash before his eyes when he would die, that he would see everything he had lived through one more time, but that wasn’t true at all. As the shockwave got a hold of him and threw him through the air without even the smallest chance of surviving the horrifying crash, as he squeezed his eyes shut to use his last remaining moments on earth to pray that at least his sacrifice would not be pointless and that the little girl would be saved, he saw the circus again.

Bright lights and the music of a hurdy-gurdy the smell of popcorn and candy apples, the sound of laughing children and of a whip slamming down on the straw covered ground. A smile flashed over his face in a matter of half a second. He was home. At last, he was home.

**-End of Chapter 1-**


	2. Chapter 2

**1985 - Winnipeg, Canada**

It happened too fast. He was too late. If the situation would be different in any way, the thought would be comical, though quite cynical in nature. However, the situation was not in any way shape or form even the slightest bit different and it was not funny in the least. The last thing Peter saw was how Kurt dropped one of the kids on the grass outside and within half a heartbeat, Peter understood that his teammate was about to teleport inside the already crumbling building one last time. He wanted to stop him, he cried out for Kurt not to do it, that it was already too late, even for someone like Peter, even for someone like Kurt, but the moment the words left his mouth, Kurt was already gone. The last thing he saw of Nightcrawler, was his signature blue smoke as he vanished. All of this happened so fast that none of their fellow X-Men had been able to see it, except for Peter himself and a part of him almost wished he hadn't.

Even though it was only a second, maybe even two, that went by before Kurt reappeared outside the building in mid-air, the time went by too slow and still Peter was not fast enough to do anything about what happened next. It happened so quickly that half of the team didn’t even realize what was going on as the world started turning again with such a speed that Peter felt his head turn. The explosion ripped the building to shreds, Kurt appeared in a cloud of blue smoke, a girl wrapped in his arms in mid-air and the shock wave of the explosion threw him – catapulted him – through the air, helpless like a ragdoll.

Kurt did not teleport a second time to flee into safety. Maybe he did not have enough time to do so, maybe he was already unconscious thanks to the blast, maybe there was something wrong. Whatever the case for his inability to teleport might be, Peter started running as fast as he could, determined to catch him, determined to save him, but he was not fast enough and he knew it. He just wasn’t fast enough. He could only watch in terror how Kurt's body was aimed for total destruction, headed straight for a huge steel beam that his own father had casually thrown away just minutes ago in an attempt to help the escaping children. Peter saw how Kurt’s body turned ever so slightly, his back aimed at the steel beam. Had he seen it? Was he conscious enough to try and shield that little girl? Was he trying to play the hero yet again? He would not survive this. The thought flashed through Peter’s mind almost too quick for him to catch, as he heard the panicked screeches from the children as they finally saw what was happening to their blue skinned savior. Kurt had gotten most of those kids out of the building, while he had been too busy playing stupid tricks again.

Peter, however, had no eyes for those kids or his team members. He was sure that each and every one of them wanted to help, wanted to save Kurt, but they would be too late, just like him. There was nothing they could do. And yet, as Peter noticed Eric not too far off, his face turning in slow motion to watch in surprise what was happening to Kurt, Peter could not help but cry out for his father, desperate for any help there might be. » _ Dad! _ « He could hardly hear his own voice and it sounded foreign and strange to his own ears. It was too late anyway.

As Peter skit to a halt, with crumbs of dirt and grass flying everywhere, Kurt's body crashed into the cold hard and unforgiving steel beam and the entire world stopped turning.

※※※※※※※

**1972 - Szardos Circus, Bavaria**

Looking back on his life up to this point, the sky above the circus had always been blue without a cloud to be seen that might tell stories of an upcoming storm. This day it was a little different, as Kurt Wagner glanced up to the sky and found a few gray clouds lingering around, almost hiding the sun and it's warm light like the messengers of impending doom. Still, the circus was a busy place, clouds or not, storms or not. His mother had always told him that the best way to know about the upcoming weather was to look at the Carney folk or the people who lived close by the sea. 

They could feel a change in weather, apparently, although Kurt had never quite understood why that was. It seemed to be true, though. As he had left their caravan this morning, he had already seen how some of the men had started to examine the various colorful tents and booths and started securing them with a little more caution than usually. Maybe there really was a storm coming. It would be his first to witness, as far as he was able to tell, anyway. Although, his mother had once told him that it had been storming and raining when Kurt had arrived at the circus. She had never told him much more about that night and every time Kurt had asked her about it, she had not answered him. So, he had stopped asking, eventually. 

»Behold the  _ incredible Nightcrawler _ …« He muttered under his breath as he looked at the poster that was hanging close to the entrance of the circus’ grounds. »Bollocks.«

»Kurt Wagner! What did I tell you about swearing?« The voice of his foster mother was shrill as it echoed over the matutinal campsite. It was not so much that her voice was shrill just by default, but because she intended her voice to sound shrill. She always did when she was scolding him - or any other kid for that matter because, as she had once told Kurt, raising a child in a circus was always a duty of the entire community and thus every child in the circus had to respect her authority and, preferably, cower in fear of her shrill voice. Having got caught by his mother, Kurt immediately jumped back one step and curled his tail around his left leg as if to protect it.

Of course, he could have tried to run away from her, as she walked towards him with her red hair that she was wearing in a tight ponytail was swinging from side to side with each heavy step of her old brown leather boots, but Kurt, as well as any other child, knew, that it would be futile anyway. He was sharing a caravan with his mother, so why should he even try to run? She would know where to find him and if he would run, his mother would have all the more reason to scold him. In the end, she would take away his marbles again, or even worse, his wooden sword and his eyepatch. And what pirate would he be without those items? Not one member of his crew would take him seriously without his sword.

»But, Mom, that's wrong!« He gestured towards the poster to make his point clear, as his mother stopped right in front of him, but she only cocked one eyebrow at him and put her hands on her hips, waiting - demanding - an answer silently. So, Kurt was quick to carry on. »I told them that I don't want them to write this!« He explained but as his mother still refused to understand what he meant and the full extent of Kurt’s misery, he let out a frustrated groan. »It's not _ the incredible Nightcrawler _ , Mom! It's  _ Captain  _ Nightcrawler!«

Although she did her best to keep her face straight, Kurt noticed the small twinkle in her eyes. »You can't even swim, Kurt, and yet you want to be a pirate? How do you suppose this would work,  _ Captain _ ?« His mother was in her late thirties already, but, unlike most old people Kurt knew, she had at least managed to keep her humor and she would never shy away from mocking her youngest. Then again, it almost seemed as if it was the secret sport of their family to mock Kurt whenever they would find an opportunity.

_ Well, touché _ , he thought bitterly, but instead of answering her, he decided to pout instead and cast his eyes down on the dirt ground and his naked feet. A tiny bit of straw had gotten caught between his toes. To make his pout look more convincing he let his tail dangle sadly from one side to the other for dramatic effect. They were, after all, carney folk and thus, all of them were rather theatric in behavior. They had to be. What fun would their audience find in their performances otherwise?

»You are not wearing your shoes again.« Of course, his mother would not be so easily fooled by just that little pout of his. Now it was his turn not to answer, but his mother was even more impatient than he was most of the time. »Kurt« She dragged out his name with a little sigh, the same sigh that made Kurt jump all the time and did not fail to do so even now.

»They hurt. You know they hurt.« Every shoe he had tried on hurt and every pair of pants he would get handed down from the others was uncomfortable and needed one additional hole more, much to everyone's displeasure. That was why he wouldn't get the more expensive pants handed down to him anymore. It was custom to hand down clothes to the younger generations as long as said clothes were still wearable, even if not exactly fashionable most of the times. Mostly, Kurt would get the clothes his older foster brother Stefan had outgrown, but Stefan was four years older and almost two heads taller than Kurt.

»That's because you are still growing, Honey. Put on your shoes, you are not an animal.« That was what she had always said, even from the start. He could remember it, but even though she would tell him that he wasn't an animal, that he wasn't a monster, it was hard to believe for Kurt now that he was growing older and started to understand more of the things that were happening around him. Sure enough, the carney folk was not biased against freaks like him, yet, there was a difference between a freak and him. Even the bearded lady would not get the same amount of strange looks thrown in her direction than he would get just for being blue. As his mother shooed him away to put on his boots again, he felt strangely scolded even though she had not yelled at him or had been mean to him in any way. His mother rarely screamed and yelled at him. She was always calm, always gentle. She was as different from the rest of his circus family as the moon was different from a loaf of cheese. His mother was the moon in this analogy, of course. Yet, most children would not want to mess with the great Margali Szardos, sorceress and gypsy queen. And Kurt was one of those kids who knew better than to mess with his mother for sure.  

Still, Kurt made a point in dragging his blue feet over the ground as he slowly shuffled away over the clearing their circus was located on in the middle of the woods, his head hanging low. He was adamant to show the world how disappointed he was that his large circus family wouldn't allow him to be a pirate from now on - and that he did not want to put on his boots, of course. »Kurt Wagner, stop shuffling and lift your feet, you are not three years old anymore!« His mother’s voice ripped through the tents and trailers and as he heard the laughter of a few of the men that were securing their tents or preparing their booths before the customers would flow in tonight, he felt his whole head turn purple and in just a matter of seconds, he did lift his feet, only to run out of sight of his mother.

This year, their circus was in Augsburg in Bavaria and like most of the times, they had chosen a spot in the thick forest at the edge of the town of Augsburg. Every night people from the nearby villages or even the big city itself would pour into their circus to see their performances. They would bring their cars that they would then park on a large pebble stone parking lot that was not too far off from the entrance of their circus and walk the rest on the path that they would lit in the early evening hours with torches and fairy lights. Kurt could only assume, that this experience had to be rather magical for most of the children that would come to this place. And his large Carney family would always do their best to make it as magical as possible for each child that would come.

Although Kurt loved his life in the circus, it had lost it's magic a long time ago already. Maybe because he could have a look behind the scenes at every moment and knew the truth behind most of the tricks.

All in all, his life here in Bavaria, in the middle of the woods was a happy one. He was different than all of the other kids, of course. Well, he was different than any human he had ever seen, to be honest. But he was treated like any other child would, only that some of the other circus children made an effort to avoid him most of the times. As he had been much younger, four or five, he had not been able to understand why they tried to avoid him. Now that he was six years old and thus practically an adult, he thought that he had a better understanding of these things and his life in general. It was because he had a tail. Well, of course, people with tails were a rarity amongst human beings, but surely not as weird as someone with two heads! Kurt was sure that the other kids would soon just start overlooking his tail and let him join when they would play. It was only a matter of time now.

»It's not because of your tail.« Amanda, his foster sister, later helpfully supplied him with this information, as they sat near the creek and let their naked feet dangle in the cold water. The creek was not too far off from the campsite where the circus folk had their private caravans and tents and so, Kurt and Amanda could even see the colorful vehicles and the washing lines that were tight between the caravans with their freshly washed laundry in the distance between the trees. One could say anything they wanted about carney folk and their children, but at least not that they would not look after their young quite cautiously. If anything, Carney folk tended to be even more cautious with their kids because the adults knew about all the bad things that could happen to their kids otherwise.

Kurt really wanted to learn how to swim and that desire only grew now as he sat here with his big sister, but no one ever had time for that. Maintaining a circus was hard work, even for him. He had to practice every day and for hours too. He was an acrobat, or at least he aspired to be one some day. Soon he would start to perform too, probably as someone else's sidekick at first, yet his poster was already out in the open to make people more curious about the little blue demon.

He looked at Amanda in confusion at her words. She was two years older than him and usually his biggest supply of knowledge and one of the rare kids that would play with him. Well, she was his sister and she didn't get to chose. It was either that Kurt would follow her around if she ignored him or that their mother would demand from her to play with her little brother without taking no for an answer. Stefan, his foster brother, on the other hand, escaped this  _ punishment  _ most of the time. As Amanda’s green eyes met his yellow ones and noticed the confusion she had provoked in her little brother, a small snicker escaped her and she casually brushed one of her long ginger locks out of her freckled face. »It's not your tail their scared of.« She repeated as she tried to catch said tail - to no avail because it had a mind of its own and was usually a lot faster than anyone who wanted to grab it. »It's because you are blue.«

Slightly affronted by her comment, Kurt wrinkled his nose as if she had outright told him that he would smell. Which, in all honesty, would not be a new development in their various conversations anyway. »What does that have to do with anything?« He demanded to know and his sister seemed caught between amusement and honest concern of her brother’s naivete. Whatever that meant. »Why are they afraid of the color of my skin? That doesn't make any sense, Mandy!«

Finally, she sighed and ruffled his dark hair in the process before she started gently moving up and down her feet under the water, creating only the smallest ripples on the clear surface. If he would do so, the water would surely splash all over the place. He was horribly clumsy with his feet and hands. He was six years old and his mother still had to cut his food for him because he had troubles holding fork and knife properly. It was hard with only two fingers and one thumb on each hand and so, his mother had given up teaching him at one point. She really was terribly impatient. Most of the others liked to claim that he got that from her, though everyone, including Kurt, knew that she was not his real mother.

Of course, he would lie if he would say that he would never think about his real parents and how he had ended up here, but then he always tried to push those thoughts aside. He could deem himself lucky to be here, lucky to had his mother and his siblings. He was strange, yes, but in a circus  _ strange  _ was normal and he had always felt loved here. So what would it matter who his real parents were?  

»Kurtie…« Amanda began a little quieter than before. »You know, some people are scared of people who look different than they do. And you … Well, you  _ do  _ look different. They could probably overlook your hands, your feet or even your tail, but the color of your skin is something you cannot hide from them, something that's always going to be visible to them.«

»That still doesn't make any sense, you know?« Kurt frowned as he lowered his eyes onto the water surface again with a small pout and his shoulders slightly raised.

»Well,  _ I  _ do know that!« She exclaimed and now it was her turn to sound affronted. »But people don't always do or think or feel what makes sense, Kurtie. And as long as you have your family who loves you, does it really matter anyway?«

For the second time in mere hours, Kurt felt his head turn purple, but before his sister could catch on to the embarrassment she had caused him, he was quick to make a jab at her and splashed her with water. She squeaked, but returned the favor and almost doused him entirely in the process. »Geez, Amanda!« He scoffed. »Gross! Next thing you’ll say is that you  _ love  _ me!«

»Bollocks!« She exclaimed with a loud laugh as she splashed him again. This time she did douse him and the water was dripping from his black hair.

»No swearing or I tell Mom!«

 

**-End of Chapter 2-**

 


	3. Chapter 3

Sitting still and confined in one place had always been a form of punishment for him and yet, it had never been harder than it was now as he sat strapped into the seat of the aircraft side by side with his team members. The engine of the jet had never been louder and more painful in his ears than it was now as it was everything he could really focus on. The constant hum of the machinery filled his ears and his brain and made it almost impossible to even think about anything but the noise. His own thoughts were sluggishly slow, his eyes unable to move and his fingers were drumming fastly on his knees - so fast in fact that it almost hurt.

As Jean grabbed his left hand, he was forced to stop.

The mission had not been overly complicated really. It had been an almost routine rescue mission of around twenty children that had been kidnapped from their homes and schools in the past few months to be experimented upon. Mutant children. Nobody had really told them who had been responsible for this project in Canada, but to them, it was already clear that it had been those mutant terrorists once again. They, apparently, were still experimenting on mutant and nonmutant children, they were still trying to _enhance_ the human species against their will. The instructions had been easy. Go in, get the kids out, destroy the chemicals and serums that were produced inside of the facility.

They had succeeded in their mission, at least in the first part of it. They had managed to get those kids back into safety. They had gotten them all out and the B-Team was already working on getting the kids back home. They had not anticipated that those lunatics would choose self-destruction for the entire facility in case of their interference. Still, they had freed them all before the building could explode and take them all with it. The terrorists had not won.

There were only minor injuries to bewail among most of their team members. Only a few scratches and bruises, a few broken bones here and there, a handful of smaller head injuries, nothing overly dramatic, nothing too uncommon for them anyway. He had blood on his face himself, scratches and cuts. His ribcage hurt, but that really was unimportant as of right now. A small amount of the blood on his face came from the cut on his forehead as he had been grazed by one of the bullets of the terrorists before he had been able to knock the man out. He had been unfocused and he was ready to admit his failure and his lack of concentration. He had not been in there to fight, that had been made pretty clear from the start, only to use his powers for the greater good and get as many of the kids out of there as possible in the limited time they had before the facility would go into self-destructing. Instead, he had rather fooled around as he so often did. He had been too arrogant. He had thought he would easily get them all out in time and still would have time left to play some stupid little tricks on those bastards. He had missed the last two kids that had been the closest to the detonation. And so, Kurt had gone back in without thinking twice about it, probably.

Most of the blood on his face and his suit was Kurt’s.

Kurt was one of the very few people on earth that he had met with of whom he could say without a doubt that they were truly good, that they did not have bad intentions. Yet, it was Kurt who was lying on the stretcher in the middle of the jet to their feet.

Jean was sitting to Peter’s left-hand side, where Kurt had been sitting on the way towards the operation area, Scott sat to his right-hand side. Under normal circumstances, the two lovebirds would sit side by side, but nothing seemed normal now. On the other side, across the jet, sat Ororo, next to her, in the middle, sat Mystique and the seat on her left-hand side were empty. Eric, his father, accompanied Hank in the front. It was odd that the infamous Magneto would help the youngsters on this mission, but the Professor had asked him to, apparently, and Peter was thankful for the bit of extra help, although even now, the moment he had spit out the word _Dad_ , still lingered in his mind, just like the way Eric Lensherr had looked at him afterwards: pale and confused. They had not spoken ever since and Peter could not find it in himself to worry about this thing with his dad now anyway. It had to come out eventually and although he had not planned on having it come out like this, it seemed not important now. 

No one would say anything. The silence that lay upon them was almost deafening were it not for the loudly roaring engine of the jet itself. He was sure that the faces of the others looked as hollow and pale as he felt, but he did not desire to lift his eyes to confirm his speculation. His eyes remained fixed on Kurt and yet he could hardly stand looking at him.

Kurt was bound to the stretcher that lay on the ground. It had been Hank who had made sure that his body had not been moved too much before they would be able to tell the damage that had been done. Still, the moment Kurt had collided with the steel played in Peter’s mind over and over like an LP that got stuck during a song. Like the LP that got stuck as he and Kurt had spent their first night together. It had played the same bit of the song they had used to drown the sounds they had been making over and over again. Peter tried to remember the fragment, to occupy his mind, to think of better times, but he couldn't do it. Something of Michael Jackson. Kurt loved the King of Pop. Still, Peter could not remember.

Therefore the moment of the crash would never leave his mind for sure. He was certain that he would see it in his dreams from now on. So, maybe he should just not sleep anymore, he bitterly thought. Kurt had crashed back first into the beam and Peter was sure that everyone in the radius of half a mile had been able to hear the loud crack of his bones as they broke under the impact. The girl had been unconscious too as they had reached the ground. It had been thanks to Jean’s quick reaction that their bodies had not slammed down on the ground and thus killing both of them without a doubt. It was because of her that Kurt was still alive, even if barely. That was why he did not try to shake off her hand as she was squeezing his, while he was digging the nails of his right hand into his pants.

Kurt was incredibly pale - which looked as odd as it sounded for someone with deep blue skin. Only once he had seen him pale in any way and that was as Kurt had had a bad stomach flu. He had blamed the bad American food, Peter had blamed the half dozen Slushies Kurt had consumed within an hour of them being in the Mall with their friends.

He was barely breathing, his chest rose and fell so little that it was almost impossible to make out at all. Due to the suit, there was not much to see of his injuries, but Peter was sure that he was bruised all over. There was a hole in his suit on his right leg where a bullet had scraped him apparently, but otherwise, his suit was still intact and they could only hope and pray that the suit had protected him from the worst.

»We need to cut him out…« The words came out as a mumble so silently that he hoped the roaring of the engine would drown them. Yet, he felt the eyes of his fellow X-Men upon him and he bit down on his bottom lip to hide the trembling. He could not start crying like a little girl now. This, right here, was their job and their job was dangerous. Still, they would need to cut him out of his suit. Such a stupid little thought and yet it filled him with terror. Jean grabbed his hand even harder now. Surely she had read his mind and though she would not say anything, she understood and that was the biggest help Peter could find right now. He could only take a deep breath and try to drown the nausea that was manifesting inside of his stomach. It would not help Kurt if he would lose his shit now.

His eyes fell upon the silver necklace that had managed to slip out of Kurt’s suit collar just a little. In the past, he had often belittled Kurt, more often than not mocked him, when his boyfriend had knelt beside his bed to speak a small prayer before he would go to sleep. He had mocked his faith often enough, yet he had gotten him a small silver cross on a chain for his birthday last year as he had turned eighteen and Kurt had complained about all the mixed signals he would give him. It had been a feast to see him that confused and yet oddly giddy about this simple little present. Although they did not share the same beliefs and although he would not put his trust into God under normal circumstances, this time, as Jean let go of his hand, Peter folded his hands like his stupid blue elf of a boyfriend would often do and started praying. Silently, hoping that, whoever or whatever might be out there, would hear him and maybe show him some mercy and give him yet another chance to redeem himself and spend a little more time with Kurt. Even a minute would be enough.

※※※※※※※

**1979 - Szardos Circus, Hessen**

Growing up in a country like Germany looking like he did, was not easy. Of course, no one had ever claimed that it would be. Yet, he had lived in a bubble of sorts, to be honest. Strange was normal inside of the circus, that was what he had been told all this life up until this point and so Kurt had been all too eager to believe it. After all, why should his family lie to him like this?

The circus people, his family, accepted him for who he was and not how he looked. He was one of them - only blue. Inside of this big rowdy circus family, looks did not matter as much as in the big city - although Kurt had never been to a big city. Here in the circus, odd looks were even preferred because it drew in the visitors. Still, not everything had been hunky-dory while growing up, of course. He had had his fair share of fights himself with the other kids in the past and he was aware that the people outside the circus might not be as inviting as his family was, although he was still unaware of the extent their aversion might have. Stefan had once said to him, as Kurt had asked him why they would not visit the local school, that it was one thing to see a freak on TV or in the circus and a very different thing to have the same freak sitting in the same classroom or have them visit the local cinema. And yet, the people that came to watch his performance were inviting and friendly and curious. They would cheer him on, they would laugh at his goofiness, they would applaud him, they would demand encores when his performance was over, they would wait for him outside, they would sometimes even bring him gifts. So, surely, not everyone outside of the circus could be afraid of him, right?

»Why can't I come with you?« He crossed his arms over his stupid old Batman shirt. One of the older boys had handed it down to him because the other boys in question did not like Batman. It was a little too big for Kurt still. He had always been thin and lanky and he was still very much too thin for his age and awkward in built. His mother had told him that this was normal at his age. He was only thirteen, after all. She had told him every thirteen year old kid was awkward in build at first. Still, Kurt would look at someone like Werner who was a few years older than him or at Stefan and would grow jealous. They were already tall, big, muscular guys and he were tiny in comparison! Tiny and thin! Then again, thin was probably desirable for an acrobat like him. He was light on his feet, quick to react and in a matter of seconds, he could jump on his brother’s back without his weight weighing Stefan down even in the slightest. The only thing his brother would do was laugh at this and then try to shake him off like a horse. Kurt had always been a whirlwind and an adventurer and nothing seemed to be able to quench this hunger for adventure in him.

His latest adventure, however, seemed to get cut short by his sister and her friends. His pouting seemed not to have the desired effect on the older kids as they looked at him in surprise. »You are too little.« One of them, a large blonde boy told him. He was seventeen and he liked to sneak out during the night to do whatever. Kurt didn't really know what he would do when he would leave the campsite and walk into the woods in the middle of the night, but he was sure that Thomas had a darn good reason to do so. Maybe he should follow him the next time he would notice this strange behavior. _Detective Kurt_ to the rescue.

»I’m not little.« He replied unflinchingly. Just because he was different from the others did not mean he had to accept everything they would throw his way. Maybe he was a little shy at times, but that did not mean he could not stand his ground! His mother had always told him that he needed to be strong and independent because she wouldn't always be there for him. She hadn't said it, but Kurt knew that she meant that he needed to be strong because he looked the way he did and that this meant that people would throw horrible stuff his way as long as he would live.

»The ringleader said you couldn't come.« A young girl, Jennifer, said and crossed her arms, her face clearly the mask of annoyance at his behavior. They wanted to go in the city and have some fun. Kurt had heard Amanda and the others talk about it. They would go and eat ice cream and buy new clothes from their pocket money. The business was good at the moment, money was streaming in more than it sometimes would. Of course, the others would want to enjoy themselves after all the hard work they put into their performances lately. Kurt had never been in the big city himself but he had the urge to go with them any see everything for himself for the first time.

»Why?« It escaped him a little more pleading this time as he stepped closer and directed his large yellow eyes pleadingly at them. Sometimes this would work, but most of the kids were rather unnerved by his eyes, apparently. Amanda had told him he looked like a kicked puppy when he would do this, at least to her. Well, he still needed to perfect this look, apparently.

»Because those kids want to have some fun, Kurt and they will not be able to have said fun if you are with them.« The voice of the ringleader was as deep as always and struck him like thunder. Before he turned around to face him, he noticed how uncomfortable the others suddenly looked as they quickly exchanged looks with each other. Especially his sister looked uncomfortable and her cheeks turned pink as the man walked towards their group. The ringleader was a large, heavy, and somewhat frightening man but with a nice face and round red cheeks, from the alcohol that he was drinking so often. The man nodded in the direction of the other kids behind Kurt and he could hear the shuffling of steps moving away slowly. He wore his usual black pants and a brown vest over his beige shirt that was splintered with stains of his favorite port wine.

»Why?« He repeated his question now addressing the man in front of him directly with anger trembling in his voice as the other kids were allowed to go and he was forced to stay, apparently. He was tired of being confined in these woods and the circus. He wanted to see something of the world! He wanted to find other books to read as the fairy tales his mother had read to him during his childhood. He was a man now and a man needed literature. He wanted to learn more than the others could offer him and he wanted to see more than he would see in the Atlas his brother had bought him a few years ago. It was not enough for him to have the theoretical knowledge. He wanted to experience the world! He was old enough now!

»Because they are normal teenagers, Kurt. They want to do what normal teenagers do and they want to do it without having some weird blue elf trailing after them. They do not want to be stared at. They do not want to be pointed at. They want to enjoy themselves like normal teenagers do.« The words stung, he could not deny it. The words of the ringleader stung like a thousand bees.

»I _am_ a normal teenager.« Kurt demanded with knotted brows as he looked up at him through his black bangs. His hair had grown quite long lately, but he liked it this way. He had seen a bunch of young men wear her hair like that on the cover of his sister’s favorite magazine. He would love to get his ears pierced too, but his mother would probably hit him with said magazine if he would dare to do so.

»No, Kurt, you are not.« The man sighed and sounded suddenly a lot more defeated than Kurt would have thought he would. »Kurt, it's time that you understand how the real world works, you know? It's all fine and dandy that your mother told you that you were normal while you were still a kid, but now you are growing into a man and you need to understand that you are not normal, Kurt. People will stare at you, inside and outside of this circus.« Suddenly Kurt grew very aware of the few other people around who had paused doing their work to listen in and watch the drama unfold. »People _will_ mock you. Maybe even worse. You can be lucky they do not capture you here to put you in a cage like the monster you look like, or worse, to experiment on you and dissect you like a frog.«

»I'm not a monster!« This time he couldn't help but shout the words at Karl. He was hurt. Who wouldn't be? His stare rested angrily on the man in front of him for a moment, before he felt how his entire body started to shiver under the looks he had drawn towards him with this outcry of his. He could feel the shame creeping over his body, starting from his neck and slowly working it's way up to his hairline, turning his skin into a deep purple color. In an instant, he threw himself around and ran for the tree line of the surrounding forest.

»Kurt, wait!« His brother’s voice, who had apparently witnessed everything and yet not done anything to defend him, barely registered with him as he ran into the forest.Kurt was not about to turn around and go back anyway now. He felt humiliated. His feet carried him into the woods without a care in the world. His body acted solely on instinct and his instincts told him that he needed to go, that he needed to run and get away from all those people who would rather mock and ostracize him. Had he really been living in a bubble his entire life? Was Karl right? Had his mother been lying to him all this time? And what about his foster siblings? That Amanda had not wanted him to come with her and her friends hurt even more than everything Karl had said to him. They had always been close. He had always trusted his siblings.

His new-old boots did not fit him properly - like everything he owned did not fit him properly - they were too big and tottered on his feet back and forth, back and forth, with every step as if he was about to slip out and fall. He did, eventually. But at least, not only his shoes were to blame this time. A nasty tree branch on the ground had done it's best to have a part in this drama unfolding and have him slam his face into the dirt. As Kurt tried to gather himself after the nasty fall, he was panting hard and his ribcage hurt. The physical pain was a welcome relief for him, though. He could not help it, he could not suppress the question that had started to seep into his brain and infect him like a virus.

Did all of them think of him as a monster? Was that really what they had all seen in him the entire time? And why hadn't they put him into a cage then? If he was a monster in their eyes, why hadn't they put him in a cage like a dangerous animal?

With a soft little sob, he moved onwards until his knees wouldn't carry him any longer. He had scraped his knees at the fall and there were holes in his trousers now. His mother would sew patches onto the holes because he had only just gotten it. Hopefully, she wouldn't use hearts again this time. He had been the butt of every joke for over a month until he had outgrown the last pair. As if the others needed any more reason to laugh at him. Or was that her reasoning behind those patches? Was she in on the joke?

He sat down heavily against a large oak and sighed as he looked down on his bloody knees. Kurt couldn't help but think about their Lion, Leopold, and how he would walk up and down in his cage sometimes, desperate to be free and run like he was supposed to. He had never liked seeing him like this or any other animal for that matter, but now, the thought outright terrified him. What if he would end up in a cage next to him soon? »Behold the incredible Nightcrawler! See the legendary monster with your own eyes.« He muttered to himself and could already see it unfold in front of his very own eyes. The people that usually came to the circus would poke at him through the bars of his cage with sticks. They would laugh at his misery and even louder when he would roar at them or hiss as Leopold would.

It did not happen too often that he would think about his real parents. For him, they were faceless figures, hidden by heavy fog in the night. He didn't know their names, he didn't know their faces, he didn't even know why they gave him up. Well, as he looked at his claws, it was quite self-explanatory why they had given him up. In his mind he saw a gorgeous blonde woman, writhing in agony under the birth of her long awaited child only for her eyes widen in terror as she was handed the blue demon-like creature that slipped out of her womb. Who would want something like this? His mother had never told him how she had found him, how it came to be that he became a part of this family and he had never asked her anyway.

A shiver ran down his spine and he wrapped his thin arms around himself on instinct. He had not noticed how cold it had gotten already now that autumn was approaching with long steps. The sun hung low from the sky by now, the trees cast long shadows over the ground. He had not noticed how much time he had spent out here all alone in the woods, wallowing in his own misery. He needed to go back home. There was a show tonight and the others were waiting for him for sure. He didn't wish to disappoint any of them despite everything. Yet, as he rose from his spot, he wondered if he should go back home at all.

His left ankle hurt badly by now at the spot where his foot had gotten caught by the tree branch when he had fallen down earlier. He sat down on the ground again to remove his ridiculously large boot only to find his ankle badly bruised. He would not be able to perform with a wound like this! With a deep sigh he brushed his hand through his hair and rose again. Until now, every time he had run off, he had gone back home because he had been sure that, yes, it was his home and, yes, he was loved. This was no longer an illusion that he could indulge in. He had no home. There was no one who loved him. Not even his sister Amanda, not even Stefan, not even his mother. He was alone, as he had always been. The only difference was that he was now aware of it.

So, instead of wandering back the way he came, Kurt threw one last glance into the direction of the circus, before he turned and walked the other way, turning his back to the circus, turning his back to his home and slowly hobbling away from all of this.

Still, in the back of his mind, the childish part of him, that usually was the strongest voice inside of his head, wished for someone to call out for him, for someone to come after him and look for him. But surely, if there was anyone in his large family who wished for him to come back home, they would have already come looking for him, wouldn't they?

Maybe that was why no one had wanted to adopt him.

They had not wanted to burden themselves with him forever. They had not wanted to tie themselves at Kurt officially. He was better off like this anyway, wasn't he? He would go about his own life from now on, follow his own path, make his own rules. He would experience adventures and was free to do whatever he pleased. Yet, he could not stop the tears from flowing as they had first started and he could not stop his bottom lip from trembling as he slowly hobbled forward on bare feet now.

»Kurt!« Stefan’s voice echoed from the surrounding trees and his steps were heavy like the stomping of a raging bull heading his way. »Kurt, wait!« But Kurt didn't stop. Only as his brother had caught up with him and grabbed his shoulder to whirl him around, Kurt lost his footing on his injured foot and fell on his butt very much ungracefully.

As he looked up to his brother through a veil of tears and bangs, he noticed how exhausted Stefan looked. It was almost as if he had been running around for hours. »There you are.« Stefan panted as he knelt down in front of him, his pale face a mask of worry. But Kurt would not believe him so easily! He would not let himself get fooled again by this face! »I was looking for you, Kurt. Mom is worried sick! Don't just run off like this, little brother.« Stefan was already nineteen years old and huge like a bear. His blond hair was often combed to the side as it was now, only that now it seemed a lot more ruffled at the ends. Probably because he had, as he had told him, run around in search for his little brother for quite some time now. Although Stefan looked quite pale and exhausted now, his sun-kissed skin was usually as far removed from being called pale as it got. As most of the Carney folk, Stefan had a _healthy complexion,_  as his mother called it, due to the constant work out in the sun. Only during winter, Stefan's skin would turn a little pinker. It was true, the two brothers could not have looked any more different even if they would have tried to. That he was looking so very much different than the rest of his foster family only reminded him constantly of the fact that he was not really one of them. Stefan, however, had always been one of the few people who were seemingly blind to those differences. He had accepted him from the start and Kurt knew that his mother possessed some old polaroid pictures of six-year-old Stefan carrying around his mutant brother as proudly as any big brother would do. 

»Why now?« Kurt hissed. »Ain't no one gonna miss me anyway!«

But Stefan wrinkled his forehead and took another deep breath to even out his breathing before he extended his hand to ruffle through Kurt’s hair. He flinched away like a cat instead. »Don't say that, Kurt. I know that the others were mean to you today, but that doesn't mean that we don't love you, idiot.« This time Stefan’s eyes fell upon his scraped knees and his bruised ankle. »Now look at you, you hurt yourself. Mom will be furious, Kurt!«

»I don't care!«

»Yes, you do.« Stefan sighed and with a smile, he continued. »You know, the other kids weren't like this because you look the way you do, do you?«

»Yes, they were! And don't even try to lie to me about this again! I'm not an idiot, Stefan!« He hissed, although everything as of now spoke a quite different language. Only an idiot would run away like this, then trip and fall and hurt himself. He was an idiot and everyone knew this, but that did not mean Kurt had to accept it this way. 

»Well … You are a bit of an idiot.« His brother laughed. »Kurt, look, it's … Well, Amanda and the others are at an age now where they do not wish to be seen with younger kids, you know? They are teenagers.«

»I am too!« And his brother was only nineteen himself, yet, Stefan was acting as if he had been fed spoons full of wisdom. Somehow Stefan always seemed to know everything, just like his mother and that only got more and more frustrating for Kurt. 

»Yes, but you are three years younger than most of them and thus practically a baby. I experienced the very same thing when I was your age, _fuzzy little elf_. It's normal. When I was at Amanda’s age, I refused to take her with me anywhere. Not even Mom could make me. I didn't want to have to look after my little sister when I was out with my friends. Same is true now. You will understand in a few years.« In a few years. Kurt grew tired of people telling him that he would understand when he was older. He wanted to understand things _now_ and not in a few years! Even if it was true what his brother said, he was the only child his age at the moment. It was not fair of his sister not to take him with! All the other younger children were much younger than he was! Kurt felt caught in the middle, not young enough to play with the younger children, not old enough to go out with the older children. He was on an island all by himself and that was no fun at all. 

»But Karl said…« He began, but his brother stopped him as he just laid his hand over Kurt's mouth and pressed it shut this way, as Stefan had done often as Kurt had still been little and constantly blabbering in his ear. 

»Karl is an asshole, Kurtie.« He said. »Karl is a notorious drunk and he says dumb things all day long. And now come on, baby brother. You are hurt and Mom will behead me if I won’t bring you back home safely and in one piece.« He still wanted to argue, but as Stefan took his hand from Kurt's mouth and turned around, still squatting down in front of him, Kurt grew aware that his brother was done arguing.

»I can walk, I am not a baby.« At least he could still pout like a toddler.

»Yeah? Right, I saw you walk just now, idiot. Get up there, I'm not so young anymore that I could stay like this forever, my knees already hurt.« Kurt had always had a hard time being angry with his brother and so, after a moment of hesitation, he climbed on Stefan’s back and wrapped arms and legs around his brother, his tail dangling down on him exhausted after the long day.

For a while, they did not say anything as Stefan carried him back and Kurt even caught himself getting drowsily like he used to as he had still been little and piggyback rides with his brother an almost daily occurrence. As the campsite started to come into sight again, Stefan stopped and looked over his shoulder to grin at him with a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes. »I think you’ll sleep in my caravan tonight, what do you think? Mom will be angry anyway and I think staying up late and watching TV with my little brother sounds a lot more fun than being yelled at by mother.«

Finally, Kurt found the strength to produce one of his large toothy grins again.

 

**-End of Chapter 3-**


	4. Chapter 4

**1985 - Xavier’s School for gifted youngsters, New York**

Peter was unable to understand even a single word of what was said. He tried to listen, he really did, but his mind was humming so loudly, that he was not able to understand anything. Yet, he felt that it was important what Hank was telling him as he stood in front of him now in his pristine white lab coat. _At least he is not blue_. The thought just rushed through his brain without his own participation. He felt himself nod, as he thought that Hank might have asked something, but he didn't really understand what the situation was all about anyway. His mind was sluggish and unable to cope.

Ever since he had seen Kurt fall to the ground like a stone, the world just wouldn't make any sense any longer. Everything had turned upside down. Nothing felt right any longer. He was Alice and he had made the mistake to follow the white rabbit through the rabbit hole into uncertainty. »Peter…« He could hear his name dull, somewhere in the world around him that was no longer his own. »Peter!« As he jumped, the world shifted back into place and around him the sounds he had not heard before flooded back in and nearly crushed his ear canals. Faces shifted back into focus again as if watching through the lens of a camera. There was a hand grasping his left shoulder. Only now, as the pain was flooding his system, he remembered how he had slammed with the very same shoulder into a door during their mission. Surely it was bruised and blue. He didn't care. In fact, he was glad for the pain that the hand that was grasping his shoulder caused because it distracted him at least a little.

He was still in his suit, unlike his fellow team members who had gathered all around him now.

As he turned his head just slightly, just enough to see who it was that was standing behind him like this, he was not even that surprised to see Scott and his mouth twitching awkwardly. »Did you hear what Professor McCoy just said?« He asked quietly as if no one around them should hear it - as if no one of their teammates had already noticed Peter’s inattention. His voice sounded weird, hoarse almost. Of course, Scott had yelled quite a lot during their mission, calling out orders through the intercom, yet Peter wanted to believe that his voice did not sound hoarse just because of his constant yelling. Despite the fact that Peter could not see his eyes behind the shades, he knew that Scott’s expression was one of honest worry for his friend. So, Peter nodded again, but he knew he couldn't fool anyone. »He said Kurt is still being operated upon.«

»Yeah…« He breathed. »Yes, I know. I know.« He knew. He hadn't needed to hear the words to know. It was bad. Their job was dangerous, yes. They were all aware that every mission could be the last one for each and every one of them, yet they never doubted that they would succeed, yet they trusted in their own abilities, yet they tried to ignore the thought that their loved ones or friends could not come back the next time because otherwise, they would not be able to do their job. Saving those innocent children had been important, still, Peter couldn't care less about their well-being now. It was selfish, of course, but as of right now, he wanted to be selfish. But now, he could see the disbelief in his friends’ eyes, as he drove his right hand through his hair and sat down heavily on one of the metal chairs that were lined up along the wall of this narrow hallway. He wanted to get away from everything, from his friends and this situation and yet, he was glad that they wouldn't leave him alone.

The only thing he could focus on was the knowledge that at least their medical staff was excellent and that the Professor would not shy away from spending a fortune if it meant to save Kurt. he would do so for every one of his children. Peter knew this, yet all he wanted to do was be inside that operation room and overlook everything that was happening.

They had to cut Kurt out of his suit, just as Peter had foreseen it. He had helped them, as long as they had allowed him to. Kurt’s skin had been cold and bruised and scratched and cut all over. Under his suit, Kurt’s body had been that of a porcelain doll that had been crushed on the floor. Broken bones had stuck out of his skin, blood had stung to his skin and had made it look like it was black entirely.

Peter was not usually a quiet guy - that much he had in common with Kurt. They were both sassy as hell, they were both never quiet or somber. He wanted to say so many things, yet he couldn't find the strength to do so and at least his friends seemed to understand. It was Jean who slowly sat down next to him. For a moment, she didn't say anything, just picked at the tips of her long red hair as if to get out the split ends, before she turned to him quietly, her voice just as calm as if she would talk to him only in his mind. She didn't, though. »We need to clean you up a bit, Pete. Maybe you need stitches.«

»I'm okay. ‘Been through worse.« He muttered, but let his head fall down on his chest and leaned his forehead into his hands for a moment, before he looked at her again, a nervous grin tugging on his lips. »Oh god … did I really call him _dad_?« Jean made a small grimace, something between confusion and concern. »Fuck! It just came out like this. Wow … Well, that was not how it was supposed to go, right?«

»Peter, you…« She started but he jumped up, gripped by the sudden urge to do something productive.

»I need to talk to him about this.« He declared. »Anyone want something to eat? God knows I could eat a pig right now. I'm back in a minute.« And with that, before anyone could stop him, he was gone.

※※※※※※※

**1980 - Heilbronn, Baden-Württemberg**

He was not supposed to go into the village. He was well aware that he was not allowed to do so. Yet, instead of turning back, he straightened his clothes, brushing his hands over his t-shirt and denim jacket, and walked on. He didn't want to stay long anyway. He just wanted to see what the fuss was all about. Amanda and her friends were visiting the nearby village more often lately. Apparently, there was a new ice cream parlor and Kurt _Nightcrawler_ Wagner was always dying for ice cream.

But since no one had wanted to come with him, he was here now alone. It was also true though that he was a little nervous as he stood at the edge of the forest line only steps away from the village now. They only came to Baden-Württemberg a few months ago to spend the winter because of the rather mild climate and so the locals weren't too familiar with him just yet. After all, not the entire village came at once to their shows and had seen him perform, although Kurt had seen that there were posters all over the place of the circus and their various performers. He had seen one _The incredible Nightcrawler_ poster on his way down the street that lead through the forest and thus towards their campsite. Of course, he was a little proud to see them. He was a well-respected member of their circus team, after all. He could think himself lucky that he had a family like this one…

Still, since Amanda had started to go out with Werner a month ago, things had started to become different between them. Amanda had no time for her annoying little brother anymore and the others still didn't like to go out with him as much. Which didn't mean that they wouldn't like him… Circus folk was just a little extravagant. Being strange was their normal and yet Kurt could understand that they would much rather keep a low profile when they would go out. Keeping a low profile usually meant _do not bring Kurt_.

He couldn't hold it against them, really. He was noisy, he was loud, he was a little rowdy from time to time and he had too much energy for them to handle. But now he was here and he was craving ice-cream. With his pocket money jingling in the right front pocket of his beige pants, he walked forward, his goal set in his mind. He would only leave the village after he had managed to eat so much ice cream that he would get sick of it.

It was the early afternoon, but the village itself was quiet. Only a few people, mostly women, were running from A to B. Of course, all of them threw looks at him. He was, after all, _The Incredible Nightcrawler_. Surely they had seen the posters too and surely they were intimidated by a star like him! Still, Kurt combed with his fingers through his dark hair to make himself look a little more presentable. Maybe he should have bathed last night… He was probably not smelling too well either… It wasn't like he would not care about his hygiene, it was just that he got sweaty during his training and his performances a lot and afterward he was just tired. These days he got even more tired and exhausted than usually - and more smelly. His mother had told him that this was because he was hitting puberty now. He didn't exactly know what that was supposed to mean, but Amanda had told him for girls it meant they started to bleed  _down there_. He had not noticed any blood yet, but … Well, he would keep an eye out. A man could never be too careful!

Kurt quickly reached the ice cream parlor and showed his best behavior along the way, up and down the narrow streets, greeting everyone who he came close to so he wouldn't need to yell across the street, a friendly smile plastered onto his face. He had liked it in Bavaria, after all, it was the place where he had grown up in, but he liked it here too. Nature around was lush and along the surrounding mountains, the farmers were harvesting wine. The people, however, were quite cheap, as his mother had complained to him after a show. They were never willing to pay any more than they absolutely had to and would talk endlessly about money.

To his luck, the ice cream parlor was empty as he entered it, with the exception of the man behind the counter - the owner, as Kurt supposed. He was wearing a pristine white uniform and a small funny hat on his head. His blonde hair appeared to be running away from him as his hairline started to thin out around his forehead. »Good day!« Kurt greeted the man with his widest smile, making sure to show all his teeth. Werner had told him that people liked it when they saw teeth in a smile. He didn't know why, but showing his teeth usually came naturally for him. His mother said he had the cutest smile when he showed off his fangs, so he did.

» _Jesus, Maria, and Joseph!_ « The man behind the counter exclaimed and pressed his right hand in shock on his chest as he staggered one step backward. His smile faltered just a little, but Kurt stepped closer nonetheless, his tail gently swaying from one side to another. Suddenly he felt nervous, suddenly he felt like he was being watched and, sure enough, he was. A few people had gathered outside the shop and were staring at him through the windows, as he noticed when he threw a small glance over his shoulder.

»I…« He started as he stopped in front of the counter and could look at the ice cream flavors, though suddenly his craving had started to die off a little. »I'm here to buy some ice cream?«

Whatever the owner of the shop was going through right now, he seemed to have recovered from his initial shock as Kurt looked up at him through his bangs out of bright yellow eyes. He noticed the golden necklace around the man’s neck adorned with a small cross on it, which he now grabbed to press a kiss to the cross. »Out with you this instant!« The man all but shouted and surprised him indeed so much, that he jumped back a bit. »Out before I get the ax, Demon!«

»But I wanted to…«

» _OUT!_ « The shout hit him to the core and before his mind could tell him differently, Kurt's body decided that it was indeed time to go now, so he threw himself around and ran out of the shop, past screaming women and down the street. The first time he stopped he was in a deserted marketplace with a small fountain surrounded by narrow houses. His heart was beating loudly in his chest, hammering against his ribcage like mad.

»What just happened?« He gasped at the fountain with the angel statue as if the angel could give him an explanation for it. »What happened?« Of course, the statue was not in a mood to talk today. »I need to go home…« He breathed with one final look at the statue. He wanted to go home. He _wanted_ to curl up in his bed and try to forget what had happened just now. Yet, he felt shame creeping up his neck. He had wanted to come here by himself and to prove to himself and everyone else that he could do that, that he was just a normal teenager who would be able to go and buy ice cream all by himself. He had failed miserably and now he could only walk home with his tail between his legs like a beaten dog.

»Yeah, you better should go back to where you came from!« A voice suddenly echoed from the surrounding houses. »We are sick and tired of you freaks coming into our village and scare our kids!«

It was not like him to cower in fear because of some bullies that wanted to taunt him in any way, but as he turned around now, he was confronted with a whole group of bulky teenage boys coming straight at him. His big mouth was quicker than his mouth, however. »I don't scare anyone! I just wanted some ice cream!« He growled back at them and this time took even greater care to show off his fangs as he bared his teeth like the lion Leopold always did to scare off curious children.

They were five and all of them clothed in black leather, denim, and boots. They wore their hair short, either so short it was hard to see it at all or slicked back on their heads. Two of them were blonde, three brunette and all of them were pale faced and grim looking. Until now, Kurt had never seen people like these, only heard of them, in hushed whispers. Those were the kinds of people who would torment their circus from time to time in attacking or sabotaging them. _Fascists_ , his mother had once spat as she had seen one of those people run off after they had thrown a stone through the window of one of the caravan. To him, his mother had said, that these kinds of people liked to glorify the old days of this country because they did not really know what it would have meant for them to live during the _golden days_ before the alleys had corrupted this country, as they called it.

»People like you don't get to want something!« One of the boys spat. »People like you can be lucky that we don't live in the old days anymore, otherwise you would have been sent to Poland already - or burnt at the stake.« His friends erupted into laughter, but Kurt wasn't backing down. He had it with bullies like these. They couldn't make him fear them! He had the looks of the devil and they didn't need to know that we wouldn't act like the devil under normal circumstances. This, however, was not normal and Kurt knew that he needed to fight.

»Careful, or I'll rip you to shreds!« He hissed and unwillingly signed his death sentence with this.

The next thing he knew was that he was running through a cornfield, desperate to get away from his attackers, but they were faster than him on their bikes. Some stones smashed into the ground at his feet as he ran, some hit him directly in his back or his legs. He should have just kept his mouth shut for once in his life! Now he could only run and try to find something to hide. The next stone hit him in the back of his head and he went down like a sack of rotten potatoes, slamming into the ground just like this. He felt disoriented and sick. His whole body was rebelling against him, his stomach making turns and twists in his abdomen, his heart was running a marathon, his knees were wobbly, his head spinning and the world was out of control.

He could smell the dirt ground - he could taste it even as he was breathing hard against the ground, while his fingers were trying to get a hold of it so that he could hold on to anything at all. He felt like spitting out his lungs. For a silly moment, he was sure the boys would let him alone now, that they had gotten what they wanted, but soon enough he heard their roaring laughter again, coming closer and closer towards him. He heard how they let their bikes fall to the ground in an almost deafening noise before they came closer, trampling the crops on the field without a care. The wheat was just high enough to hide him, but they had seen him and they weren't done yet.

The sun was low in the sky already and the shadows were growing longer each second. Kurt did not even know anymore how long he had been running from them, only that his feet could not carry him any longer. He had lost his boots somewhere along the way and now the soles of his feet were cut and bruised and hurting. Still, Kurt tried to push himself up again on wobbly arms and knees, before a foot slammed down on his back, crushing him against the cold hard ground for the second time.

»Not so high and mighty anymore, aren't we, Demon?« One of the boy’s said and spat down on him. The spit hit his left cheek as he was pressing his right cheek on the ground and Kurt was unable to respond, he could only try to breathe evenly - to no avail, as the one who had struck him down again was still standing on his back with one heavy boot.

»What now? Are you going to crawl home? Don't bother, sure they're gone without you already anyway. Surely they just waited to get rid of you. Who would want something as ugly as you anyway?« Another one of the boys laughed as he kicked him in the side. Kurt couldn't help but wince in pain and curl his tail around himself, hoping to protect him and his tail as best he could as his mind was filled with horror at the prospect that they might be right. What if there was no home left now? He shouldn't have just run off like this!

»Maybe we should cut his head off and put it on a pike.« A third one chuckled. »Or cut his tail off!«

»I wonder if he's blue everywhere!« He didn't register it at first because their voices had started to sound dull under their taunting and the kicks he was receiving with each vile statement and insult that was thrown at him, but suddenly they were grabbing him, ripping his clothes, tearing holes into the fabric without a care. He tried to struggle, tried to get them off of him, but he was too weak, too exhausted to have a chance against them and even if he wouldn't be, he would not have one. He screamed and hissed as they ripped his clothes off just like this, tearing apart his old white shirt and his denim jacket first before they turned to the belt that was holding his jeans up. They needed a pocketknife and grazed his skin with the blade as they cut through the leather belt.

By now, one of the boys held him down with ease. He was crouching in front of Kurt, his face pressed into the dirt underneath him as the boy in front of him pressed his knees down on Kurt’s shoulders to keep him from struggling, his crotch way too close for comfort at Kurt’s face.  

He knew that he did not have a chance against five older boys, but his body was out of control and still struggling as hard as it could without a care about chances or not. This was about survival. He could only think about the horror tales he had been told in the past and what could happen to him if he would not be able to get away. This was not about getting away with a black eye or a split lip anymore. This was about whether or not he was able to escape and survive. By now, there was no doubt left in his mind, that those guys were out to kill him and show off the body of the demon they had slain. And after that, they would turn against the rest of the circus. They would attack them. Maybe they would manage to gather a mob with torches and pitchforks. They would race towards the campsite and burn down the tents, destroying everything they got and hurting anyone who dared to stand in their way.

»Blue.« The first boy finally stated as they got what they wanted after they were done ripping off his pants. Kurt lay naked on the cold ground, not even able to curl in on himself and the cold wind was sending shivers down his bruised spine. His clothes were useless now. How should he go back home like this, if he would get the chance to go home at all? His back hurt like hell and he did not even know if he would be able to stand up anymore. If they would leave him here like this now, he would die anyway. »Everywhere! Look at this! Blue, blue, blue!«

One of the others produced something that sounded a lot like a whistle. »I mean, what the hell is this guy? He isn't human, is he?«

»Who cares about that?« The last boy laughed. »We should just end his misery. It's not like we wouldn't do him a favor, right? Well, we would do a favor to anyone who has to put up with that thing, anyway. It's an act of mercy, really.« As Kurt produced a small quiet sob that was almost drowned by the soil underneath him, the boys erupted into laughter yet again and another kick against his back made him flinch and jerk violently. He could hardly breathe by now and the boy who was still holding him down with his thick legs smelled of anything but roses. The smell almost made him gag.

»He could be dangerous.« Another punch hit his skull and his head just pushed down uselessly into the ground again. He could already feel clumps of dirt on his teeth.

»Please« Kurt finally breathed. »I just want to go home…« He wanted to go to his mother and apologize for breaking the rules. He wanted to curl into Stefan’s bed. He wanted something warm. Whatever it was that he had said, it seemed to provoke them only further. And as they started to kick him relentlessly and started beating down on him with sticks they had found on their way, Kurt could only close his eyes, try to shield his head with his arms as the boy who had held him down joined in on the fun and think about home, imagine that he was there and not here.

As one of the boys stomped down on Kurt's tail heavily, his scream ripped through the air, but the boys only laughed louder and Kurt, suppressing a sob, suddenly remembered the old church in Bavaria, near their old circus location. A church surrounded by a dense forest and almost hidden from the world. He could see the building right in front of him, the old tower, the dark shingles on the roof. He could hear the voices of the choir sing his favorite gospel, he could see the warm sunlight shining through the rose window in all the colors of the rainbow. He saw the stone altar with the large cross and their lord and savior Jesus Christ behind it hanging from the ceiling on steel cables.

Back then he had spent whole days inside the cool walls of the gothic church, a fading memory of the Germany that had largely been destroyed during the second World War. There he had felt at home, with the friendly old priest, Father Michael, who had read to him from the Bible and even taught him how to read it himself as no one in the Circus had had the time to teach him thoroughly or to feed his curious mind. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to imagine the inside of the church as vividly as he could, the large rose window with the colorful glass, the stone altar, the old smelling wooden benches, the dark red carpet on the ground with the stains of candlewax and the dirt of various pairs of shoes…

_BAMF_

His right cheek was no longer pressing down in the dirt.

 

**-End of Chapter 4-**


	5. Chapter 5

**1985 - Xavier’s School for gifted youngsters, New York**

It was almost impossible to say how long he had been sitting here, all by himself in the library. At this hour nobody was here - especially not after the day’s events. His fellow team members were surely already tending to their wounds or idly discussing what to do next, maybe even sitting together to have dinner, or lunch or … whatever. Not that he would care. Usually, Peter liked to be in on the fun at all times. Although he had not often left the house of his mother in the past, before he came to live in the Institute, other than to go on a little _shopping spree_ , he liked to be around people. He liked to be in the midst of the chaos. Today it felt impossible to even think about being close to anyone at all. He felt antsy even thinking about being around all those other people with their pitiful eyes. He did not want to have them looking at him like this and he did not want gentle hands rubbing soothing circles on his back as if he was still a small child that had woken up from a nightmare.

Only that it was the other way around, wasn't it? He had been woken from a wonderful dream up until today, up until the moment when disaster had struck as hard as his stepfather had once struck him before his mother had thrown him out of the house. Now he was living a nightmare and there was no hope of waking up soon.

The sun was already deep on the horizon and cast long and gloomy shadows over the meadows outside of the mansion where students liked to sit under the large trees to study or chat with their friends during summertime. Kurt had always found great enjoyment in popping down from a branch to surprise his friends when they would expect him the least. Jean was probably the only one Kurt could never surprise in the slightest.

Then again, Jean was always playing with dispatchers.

»I am not playing with _dispatchers_. I am only a little more attentive than you and the others, that's all, really.«

Was he surprised that Jean had found him here? No, of course not. She had already told him that he was a very loud thinker. Then again, even she had sometimes troubles catching his thoughts at all. He was too quick. Today he felt sluggish and the world moved even slower than it usually would. He could feel himself aging with each second that was passing. To him, every second felt like a day at least. »There, you did it again.« He sighed and leaned back on the sofa he was sitting on. It was rare that he would get a spot on this very sofa - at least when Kurt was around to claim it like a cat would claim its spot in the sun. His blue friend would never give up his sofa and would make no room even for him, except when Peter would force him to, which usually resulted in them getting thrown out of the library.

»Would you feel better if I would say that I was sorry?« She smiled at him as she sat down beside him. Casually, Peter had a small look around the rest of the library, just to see if Jean had come with her personal shadow again. There was no trace of Scott this time, but surely he was not too far away. She had changed her suit against her usual clothes, a thick knitted yellow sweatshirt against the cold autumn air coming through the open windows, and a pair of simple, washed out denim jeans, her hair neatly tied together. She even smelled as if she had showered already. He, on the contrary, must look and smell horrible. He was still wearing his suit and did not find it in himself to get rid of it. He did not even care for his wounds or the blood that was still clinging to him. He could not find it in himself to even focus on getting changed or showered or cleaned up in any way. Still, he was not very surprised to find that Jean had brought the first aid kit with her that was now resting on her lap. It was almost laughable. He needed more than a band-aid, probably, but it was the thought that counted.

»How is he?« Peter mumbled instead of answering her. She did not expect an answer anyway and they both knew it. Peter did not need to read her thoughts to know it.

»I don't know.« She said, casting her eyes down on the first aid kit shortly and nervously drumming her fingertips on the lid. »He is out of the operation room now. But Professor McCoy said that he does not know if he will pull through.« There was a certain sense of heaviness to her words and her voice, her entire demeanor towards Peter. _Ah_ , he thought bitterly, _so this is how everyone will look and talk to me from now on._

»I appreciate the honesty.« The words came out a lot colder than he intended them to and he could already feel his face pull into the grimace of bitterness he hated so much - mostly because it reminded him of his father. They did not exactly look alike, but at least this bitter face they had in common. Then again, the very same face he had seen often enough on his mother too - mostly when Peter had done anything that she had deemed inappropriate or shameful. This was the face his mother had regarded him with, after her divorce to stepfather number two. And, for the longest of times, Peter had believed that it had been his fault. Who knows, wouldn't it have been for Kurt, he would probably still believe it. But Kurt, as cheesy as it might sound even to him, had brought some kind of strange light into his life that had been able to cast away the shadows of bitterness and loneliness. What would he become without this light in his life? Would he turn into his father?

»Pete, you know that you can go see him, right? I mean … before it's too late, I guess.« Jean muttered quietly under her breath as if she did not know if she should say what she was thinking or rather keep it to herself. Of course, Peter knew that there was this very real possibility that Kurt would not survive. Still, even though hours had passed ever since the accident, the reality of this thought still refused to sink in.

»Don't worry, he is _the Incredible Nightcrawler_ , he will pull through.« Because otherwise, Peter would probably do something very stupid.

※※※※※※※

**1980 - Ramsau, Bavaria**

He could smell olibanum and the cold wax of old beeswax candles not too far away. His nose was pressing into something soft. He could feel carpet under his fingertips and buried his claws into it by instinct. His entire body was on fire. Everything hurt. He felt disoriented, his head was still spinning and humming. Was he still lying in the dirt on the field? As he pried open his eyes, it was dark around him. Not so dark that he could not see anything, but dark enough to tell him that he was not out in the sunlight anymore. Maybe the night had already broken. But then his surroundings started to take shape around him. No wheat looming over him, no soil underneath him. He was lying on a piece of a dark red carpet, pressed flatly against the ground, the right side of his face buried into its fibers as he drew in one deep breath. He was wheezing and his lungs were rattling in exhaustion. To his left-hand side, he could see a row of benches - church benches, crafted out of dark wood. The floor was made out of stone, unpolished, dark stone. Had someone found him and carried him into a church?

For a second, he thought that he knew this place. It felt familiar, but it was almost impossible to say why that was the case. He could not think straight. He was unable to collect his thoughts even. Maybe he should just close his eyes and go to sleep. However, as he closed his eyes, he heard the sound of a door slamming shut in the distance. The noise was echoing through the building like he had heard it so often during his childhood. The sound was almost painfully familiar. Steps were slowly walking over the stone, then stopping and a second later he heard them running towards him, the soles of shoes smacking down on the stone.

Warm hands were upon him in a matter of a heartbeat and only now Kurt realized that he was still naked, as he felt one hand on his naked back. »Dear God« He knew the voice. He was sure that he knew the voice. »Kurt, can you hear me?«

He opened his mouth to answer, but only produced a small gurgling sound as he tried to and felt something hot run out of his mouth and drip on the carpet. After this, the darkness had him back and he felt like he was falling, endlessly falling into the pits of hell.

The sound of dripping water made him come back to his senses once more. _Drip, drip drip,_ slowly and steadily. After he opened his eyes it still took a while until he could see what was around him. It was white. Yes, that sounded about right. It was white. Everything was white.

»I see you are with me again, Kurt.« Just as his eyes wanted to fall shut again, the voice of someone beside him forced him to open them immediately. He was in a bathtub. At least that he could understand and the realization made him jump a little and grab the sides of the tub so hard his knuckles turned pale. There was a man sitting beside him and as Kurt was finally able to take in his appearance, his heart felt heavy and yet he was so relieved that he desperately wanted to cry. The old priest smiled at him encouragingly like he had done years ago before they had left this place behind to find a new place for their circus.

As a child, he had loved this old church. It had become his refuge of sorts and the old priest had always been accepting of him as if he was just a normal rowdy child. Because he was, at least in his eyes. Father Michael’s brown eyes were still soft and warm as he looked at Kurt now and for a moment, Kurt just leaned his hurting head against the priest’s hand in the silent search for compassion, perhaps.

Apparently, the priest had found him in the church and carried him into his own home close to the old church to tend to his wounds and clean him up. Kurt tried not to flinch as the man later pressed a cotton ball doused in disinfectant on his fresh wounds, but he didn't succeed. They had not talked much ever since Kurt had found himself in that bathtub and had been able to watch how the water had turned dirty with blood and grime. Only now, as Kurt bit his lip so that he would not whimper like a little child as the Priest was carefully pushing the needle through his skin, his guardian angel opened his mouth again.

»What happened to you, my child?« He asked and his voice was just as gentle and warm as Kurt remembered it.

As Kurt had first entered the church as a child a few years ago, he had not been too aware of how his looks might turn people against him, but he had seen the irritated looks from the people inside the church as he and his mother had visited the holy mass one Sunday morning. They had whispered behind their backs and pointed at him and his mother in silent judgment. His mother had not been fazed by this, she had just raised her chin a little higher and grasped his tiny hand harder. But Kurt had felt terribly ashamed although he had not known why. His mother had never been a woman of faith, despite the cross she wore around her neck from time to time. Yet, she had visited the mess with him on that fateful day because Kurt had asked her to.

He had heard about church and mess from other kids of their circus as they would sometimes go with their parents and he had wanted to see for himself what all the fuss was about. Maybe, he thought now, he had wanted to be a little more normal too and join the other kids in her annoyance about visiting church with their parents. But, as it had turned out, unlike the other kids he had enjoyed the holy mess that day, despite his mother's hopes.

She had not talked about it, but now, years later, Kurt was well aware that his mother had hoped that he would lose interest again like most kids would. But Kurt had been fascinated ever since and had nagged his mother Sunday after Sunday to go with him until he had decided to go alone. Not to mention that he had been the target of ridicule and insults at times, but, to his biggest surprise even back then, it had been that very priest, who had always ushered Kurt to sit on the front bench so that he would be able to see everything that was happening at the front. He had spent hours inside that church, staring at the statues and the icons, examining the precious oil paintings of the saints and just listen to the priest and his stories or the choir’s practice every now and then.

»I don't know.« Kurt quietly replied and although it was a lie, the priest did not chide him right away, although Kurt was sure that he could tell the lie from the truth, especially in Kurt’s case. Yet, the priest did not say anything, only proceeded with sewing his head wound shut. Already dark bruises had started to form all over his body as he sat only in a pair of boxer shorts on the sofa in the priest's living room. Needless to say, the underwear was too big for him. Under different circumstances, Kurt would have been terribly ashamed, probably. Now, however, everything just hurt and there was not much he could do about it.

»You were attacked.« The priest finally sighed as he knotted the ends of the thread together and cut it off as he was finished with his task. »By whom? I didn't know that Szardos’ Circus is back in town.«

He bit his tongue and didn't know why, only that he didn't want to tell what had happened because he had yet to understand and fully grasp what had happened himself. He had been in Baden-Württemberg, in a small village close to Heilbronn and near the river Neckar, chased by those group of teenage boys, beaten bloody and stripped to their amusement, and then he had not been there any longer. As he did not answer, the priest gently ruffled through his moist hair, careful not to irritate his stitches.

»You can stay as long as you like, Kurt, you know that. I am always willing to shelter stray sheep.«

And Kurt did stay. A part of him didn't want to go back home to the circus, despite the fact that he didn't know how he would go back home anyway. Another part of him wanted desperately to go home, to flee into his mother's arms and hear Amanda spit insults at the people who had hurt her baby brother. Even Stefan would be furious, he guessed. They weren't as close as he and Amanda were, but when it came to it, Stefan was very protective of his blue brother. Still, no matter how protective Stefan, Amanda or even his mother might be towards him, he was, as the priest liked to say, just a stray sheep and the circus had decided to take him in out of sheer generosity but not go as far as to adopt him legally. To the world he was nonexistent.

Maybe it was better this way. If no one knew that he existed, no one could try to find and catch him. At least, that was what his mother had told him in the past. In retrospect, it was almost comical. She had always warned Kurt not to be too trusting of strangers, always reminded him that there were bad people around out in the world.  

He stayed in bed for almost a week, after he had first arrived at the church and he still had a hard time figuring out what had happened. He had traveled from Baden-Württemberg to Bavaria in the blink of an eye - even thinking about it caused his head to spin. As he had been lying on that field, bleeding and hurting all over, he had just wished himself away and suddenly he had been in this church, this place he was so familiar with and had missed even more than he had been aware himself. What if he would wish himself back to the circus now? Would it happen again? And if so, what did this really mean?

He did not wish himself back home, though. He stayed at the Priest’s house and gave his body time to heal. Two of his ribs were broken, two more bruised. His entire body was covered in black bruises that only slowly started to fade away and the stone that had hit him in the head had left quite the impression on his oh so very fragile skull. Yet, after just a few days of bed rest, he had been able to make the priest laugh a little due to a very silly card trick Kurt had shown him. He had always been good at making other people laugh and he was generally a very happy person too, but while he was recovering, he was not able to laugh himself. When he would try to sleep, he would see everything happen, again and again, wondering what those kids might have done to him, had he not escaped. Yet he was still too young to fully grasp the full impact of the endless possibilities of the torture they could have bestowed upon him.

His poor tail took the longest to start healing. The priest only once managed to make him grin a little, as he had mockingly tried to splint his apparently broken tail - to no avail. Bandages had to suffice, he later decided.

Days went by in a blur, almost. The priest brought him books to keep his mind occupied as long as Kurt was not allowed to leave the bed in the guestroom of the small house. They ate together, even when it meant that the priest had to bring the meals to his bed. They talked, they even prayed together every evening and, after a long while, Kurt even read the Bible again as he had as a child. Despite him missing his family and missing to be able to run around and use his body as he was used to, he started to enjoy his little timeout in this small crooked house near the church. From his window, he could see the old gothic church close by and on some days of the week he could even hear the music of the pipe organ and the voices of the choir when he would open the window over his bed to let in the fresh autumn air. He felt at peace at those times and yet he could not forget what had happened to him.

»I feel silly.« He stated as he quietly stirred in his potato soup at dinner time with his spoon. He had helped to make the soup, and the priest had shown a lot more patience for him and his inability to hold a knife than his mother had shown in the past. Instead of losing his calm, the priest had wrapped his own hand around Kurt's right to help him peel the potatoes slowly. To him, it had not been important how long the preparation of the soup would take this way. He had helped Kurt and told him stories all the while until Kurt's hand had been steady enough to do it himself.

The priest lowered his own spoon again and looked at him over the rim of his glasses in confusion. »What do you mean, Kurt?«

He could feel his head turn purple, as he realized that he had said those words aloud and quickly thought of an explanation as he averted his eyes. »I can't even peel potatoes on my own, how am I supposed to someday take care of myself?«

Father Michael chuckled quietly at this and pointed his empty spoon at Kurt's nose. »You will get to it, with patience and time. You are too impatient, Kurt, too quick. You need to take your time and everything works out just fine in the end.«

»My mother thinks differently.« He scoffed.

»Your mother is just as impatient as you are.« At least that was true. »But, be honest, Kurt, that is not what you meant, is it?«

Of course, it wasn't, and finally, Kurt found the courage to explain what he felt to the priest. »I feel silly because I can't forget what happened.« He sighed and dunked his spoon into his bowl again. »I feel silly because I do not understand why they attacked me. I haven't done anything bad, have I?«

His hand was stopped by Father Michael’s as he closed his white hand around Kurt's blue one without hesitation while quite a few people would refrain from touching Kurt at all. »Kurt« He started sternly, but his eyes still shone with warmth. »It is not your fault that they attacked you. Some people can't deal with anything that is slightly different, you know? Most people are narrow-minded. They see you and they see the devil’s work. I, however, see a sign of God that tells me that not everything is just as black or white as most people would like it to be. I see that God works in the most mysterious ways. Sure enough, you might have the appearance of a little demon and sure enough, I know that you can behave like an imp too, but you are kinder than most people I know, Kurt. I asked you to sit in the front of the church to show the people that came to the holy mess that they should never judge a book by its cover.«

»But they still do.«

»Yes, unfortunately, they do.« He sighed. »And, Kurt, some things will never change. As much as you cannot hide how you look, some people cannot escape their own narrow minds, but there will always be people around who will accept you for who you are.«

»And who am I, if not the devil?« The question would always remain in the back of Kurt's mind, whether he liked it or not. Maybe the question would remain until the day he would finally find out who his real parents were and why they had given him away like this. If he would at least know how it had happened … It would be a small comfort, he guessed.

»You are a kind, gentle soul.« Father Michael began before he brushed his thumb over Kurt’s left cheek affectionately. »You are a troublemaker and a jokester. You look out for others, you take care of others. You are thoughtful and sweet to most around you.«

»But I am angry, Father.« He whispered as if he would not dare to say it aloud. »If I could, I would take my revenge on those boys.« And on everyone who insulted him, starting by his very own circus family, perhaps.

»You are allowed to be angry, my son. Be angry all you like, scream out your frustration for the injustice you have suffered, but then let it be, don't ever think about it again. Confide in God and he will show you the path to forgiveness.«

»What if I can't?«

»You will, Kurt. You are strong enough to forgive. You see, for the people who insult or attack you, you are a welcome change from their daily routine. It's easier to see the flaws in other people and point at them than to have a good long look in the mirror instead. They see you and they see an opportunity to vent out their own frustration about themselves. But you know that now and because you know you will find a way to forgive and comes the time, you will find someone who will accept you as you are and who will love you exactly because of who you are.«

As week number two went by, Kurt had finally found the courage to tell the priest of how he had gotten here and the priest had been all too eager to try this new talent out with Kurt. First, he had started to teleport around the house, trying to get a hold of this new power, as he had figured out that it was indeed another power of his. His mutant abilities were not limited by his appearance or his acrobatic talents, apparently.

After a few days, he was able to bridge bigger distances, but it was exhausting to him. Yet, he practiced each day while his wounds started to heal, but never fade. He would be left with a few new scars, but Kurt had taken the words of the priest to heart and decided that he could forgive those boys for attacking him. It would take time, but eventually, he would be able to. It was the love of God that made this possible for him.

Finally, Kurt decided to go back home. Almost three weeks had passed and he felt capable of going back home the way he came here. His wounds were still not healed completely, but he needed to go back. At least, that was what he had thought for the last couple of days. As he stood in front of the house now, in the light of the early morning as the sun was slowly rising above the trees in the distance, his heart felt heavy and he caught himself thinking that he did not even know if his family was looking for him at all, if they worried about him, maybe. Perhaps they were glad that he wasn't there anymore. Perhaps they had decided to leave now that Kurt wasn't there anymore.

The deep breath that he had not been aware he was holding came out stuttering and hollow, but the next moment he felt the large hand of Father Michael on his bruised, left shoulder. He was squeezing gently. Gently enough so that he wouldn't hurt him, but Kurt wouldn't have minded him hurting him anyway. That way he would have understood that it was real at least. Now he could only look up to him with big yellow eyes, suddenly unsure if he should go back home at all or rather stay and live a quiet and peaceful life as part of the church.

»What if they don't want me home?« The words just came out like this, without hesitation, without shame, but Father Michael just smiled at him, before he shoved his right hand into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a silver necklace with a small silver cross dangling from the chain. Before Kurt could even begin to protest, the priest closed the necklace around Kurt's thin neck and then put both hands on his shoulders to give him another reassuring squeeze.

»You will see that you have been missed, Kurt. Do not falter, my child. Love can come in all shapes and forms and you will find that you are very much loved when you go home. Courage, Kurt.«

»But can I come back … Just in case?« He felt like a small child as he asked this stupid little question, but Father Michael seemed to understand as he chuckled softly and then patted his shoulders lightly. »My house and my church are always open for you, Kurt.« As Father Michael stepped away from him, Kurt knew that it was his time to move now. No long and drawn-out goodbyes. If his power was following his own will now, he could come back as often as he wanted to. And so, this was not a goodbye. Still, Kurt felt saddened as he gave a small nod and closed his eyes.

He tried to imagine the clearing where the circus was located. He tried to imagine the colorful tents and caravans, the people running around idly in their daily routine. He tried to imagine his mother sitting on the steps to the caravan she was sharing with Kurt, knitting away her time on a new scarf for the approaching winter.

It was blue.

 _BAMF_. As he opened his eyes he could see the blue scarf in his mother's hands. He felt nauseous and was swaying pretty badly on the spot. There were hands on him before he could even tell what was happening. Loud voices made his ears ring and twitch in protest of the noise. There were arms trying to squeeze him and before he could understand it, he was on the ground again, with his mother hovering over his face, her red hair dangling in his face and tickling his nose so that he needed to sneeze. »Make room for him, you idiots!« He heard his mother's voice shout and then there was shuffling and mumbling again, a deep murmur echoing all around him.

Desperately, Kurt tried to look around. He could see blurred faces all around him, but the only face that he could focus on was his mother's, as she now cupped his face with her own pale hands carefully. »Kurt« She sighed softly. »Oh Kurt, what happened to your face, darling? Where have you been, baby?«

And just like that, Kurt’s fear of rejection from his own people vanished without a trace. Father Michael had been right. He had been missed, he was loved and because he knew these things now, as his mother pressed a kiss to his forehead, he knew that he would be able to forgive his attackers eventually.  

※※※※※※※

Inside the room it was dark. Only a small lamp above the door was leading the way out of the room and, eventually, out of the wing that was reserved for Hank’s lab and the private little hospital that the Professor had installed as they had rebuilt the school two years ago. As Peter sneaked inside the room, he felt as though eyes were resting upon him from all over the place and he wouldn't even put it past the professor that he had installed cameras all over the place to have a decent enough surveillance of possible patients. There was only one bed inside the room and on that bed, a thin figure was lying sprawled out on the mattress.

It took Peter almost too long to step forward, it was almost even embarrassing, really. No one was here to see him and even if he would not be here by himself, he shouldn't care either if anyone could see him. He took another deep breath and slowly, very slowly, he moved towards the bed. Only as he reached the bed, Peter paused for a second at the end of it and just stared down at the person lying on this very bed. He felt himself feeling for Kurt’s feet under the blanket and could not stop himself from gently holding onto them, as they seemed to be the only part of his body that was not injured. »How are you even still alive, elf?« Peter found himself whispering quietly, but his voice felt heavy. It was way past midnight already and he was still in his suit, but at least he had let Jean clean the visible wounds that she had managed to find on him.

A band aid was now decorating his cheek, but a band-aid had not sufficed for Kurt.

There was hardly a piece of the blue skin that was free from bandages. Even his head was covered in it and only a bit of his dark hair was sticking out of the thick bandage that was wrapped around his stupid head. The worse, however, was the cast that was around his torso to hold his broken bones together. At least that was how Peter imagined it.

Kurt was not even able to breathe by himself and the sight only caused Peter’s own chest to feel tight and his heart to hurt. He had never seen Kurt in such a bad condition. He still remembered the aftermath of their fight with Apocalypse. The poor bastard had exhausted himself to such a degree that he had been asleep for the entirety of their flight back home and had been confused for at least another full week. It was this week when Peter and Kurt got first engaged in a blossoming friendship, for they had been the only ones of their team forced to stay in bed and lick their wounds. Kurt had been the first to write and draw on Peter’s cast.

After that, everything had happened so fast and now he felt that he hadn't had enough time with his boyfriend at all. It was never enough time, he felt. Before he had joined the team, before he had met Kurt, he had spent his life loafing around and stealing unnecessary things to his own amusement. Nothing had made sense, nothing had felt important and his time had been running much too slow anyway. Now, however, he was afraid that everything happened too fast in his life, even for him. The last two years had gone by in a blur. And now Kurt was only breathing through a tube in his throat and had one of those weird monitors beeping beside his bed.

He couldn't move away. Suddenly he felt trapped and unable to let go of Kurt’s stupid blue feet. »I love you, Kurt.« He heard himself mumbling, although he was not usually one for public displays of affection. Right now it was only the two of them anyway and Kurt could probably not even hear him. »Don't you dare to die on me like that and make me go on a rampage like good old dad.«

He had almost hoped for a response, but as there was none, Peter slowly walked around the bed and let himself fall down on a chair after he had pulled the chair as close to the bed as possible. Even Kurt’s tail that was slightly dangling from the bed, was bandaged. Peter had spent the whole day avoiding his teammates and explanations of Kurt’s condition. He had not wanted to hear what Hank had to say about it. He had not wanted to hear that Kurt’s life was hanging on a silken thread right now. He knew this, but he did not want to know it and he did not want to hear it. Hearing it would make it real and with reality, he could not cope at the moment.

Still … He could still hear the words that had been exchanged after their landing as Kurt had been transported out of the jet. They were ringing in his ears and his head even now. _Internal bleeding, broken bones, a fractured spine, head trauma…_ But all he could think about in that moment was how furious Kurt would be when he would wake up to find himself confined to a bed and forced to wear a cast all over his body. Kurt was just as antsy as he was. Staying still was punishment for both of them.

But what if he would not wake up anymore?

»You are the best thing that ever happened to me.« His voice sounded strange to him, flat and unnerving, really. He sounded like he was about to cry, but his eyes felt dry and he had no strength left to cry anyway. After a moment of hesitation, he grabbed Kurt’s left hand carefully, afraid to break something. »You showed me so much kindness, forgiveness and gave me so much love. What am I going to do without you? Who am I going to become? You can’t nope out on me like this, Kurt Wagner.«

Almost he expected to get an answer. Almost he expected to hear him say _I won’t_ with this strong German accent of his that made anything he said incredibly cute and sometimes hard to understand even. But there was no response, there was no answer. So, the only thing Peter could do was to stay by his side and hold his hand. Tomorrow the sun would rise again and Kurt would get better. He was sure of that. He had to be.

 

**-End of Chapter 5-**


	6. Chapter 6

**1985 - Xavier’s School for gifted youngsters, New York**

»You need a shower, Pete.« Ororo looked at him as if he had been rolling around in a hoggery the whole day. Well, he would never act as if he was not smelling in his stupid suit, but still, he looked at her with a grimace of utter affront and wrinkled his nose.

»How dare you!« Peter scoffed, but he could hardly fool his stormy friend even if he would try to sound like his cheery old self.

»You could at least get out of this suit, Petey. I mean, really, it has been three days! It has to be uncomfortable in this thing by now.« It was. Of course, it was. The material of the suit made his skin itchy and he was craving a shower or a hot bath badly, but then his eyes fell upon Kurt’s face again and he could not bring himself to get up and leave. Ororo seemed to understand what was going on inside of his head and unlike so many others, she did not need any telepathic talents. Then again, maybe her tight friendship with Jean had made her a little more susceptible in regards to other people's thoughts and feelings. »If you would feel more comfortable when he would not be alone, I could stay with him while you go take a shower and change.«

»No, I'm good.« He brushed her words off just like this although he did appreciate the sentiment. Kurt’s accident and his state had been hard on the entire team, not just on him. He was very much loved at this place, as was evident by all the little presents the students had already brought to Kurt’s room in this part of the building. Nearly every surface was exploding with color from various stuffed animals, flowers, and colorful _get-well_ cards.

»Pete, really.« She sighed and stepped closer to ruffle through his gray hair. »You look like shit, you know? The others are just too polite to say it, but you do look like shit - and not like a fresh dump either, my friend, no there are already flies flying around your head. Have you even slept at all lately?« No, he had not. He had not slept since everything had happened. His fear was keeping him awake. The fear of waking up to find Kurt’s bed empty, to find him lying on a slab.

»His condition has not improved yet…« Peter murmured instead of answering his friend, but he shortly dragged his fingers over his tired eyes and rubbed his nose if only to busy his hands.

»I know.« Her voice was a lot softer now, but then she grabbed him under the arms as hard as a thin girl like her could to pull him off his chair. »But it won't help him when you adhere to this chair. Do you really think he would like to wake up to your nasty ass smell? He will fall right back into a coma and then it is truly your fault!«

Though Ororo succeeded in pulling him off the chair, Peter shoved her back as he stood. He was unstable on his own two feet for a second, his head spinning out of control after sitting around for so long and his circulation shutting down inevitably. »What if he wakes up and I'm not here? What if he dies and I'm not here?« The words escaped him without his permission and his eyes burned just thinking of the possibilities. How could he even think of leaving his boyfriend behind, just to take a shower and change clothes? Was his own comfort more important than being here for him in his hour of need? Kurt would not leave his side even for a second if their places were swapped. He had always been selfish and for once he did not want to be.

As if Ororo too was able to read his mind, she pulled him towards her and wrapped her thin arms around him for a moment, allowing him to rest his forehead against her shoulder. »He wouldn't want that you beat yourself up because of this. He would want you to take care of yourself, Pete.«

»Yes, because he is sweet and kind.« He groaned as he again took a step back and rubbed over his eyes so that she would not see the tears that were threatening to come out of his burning eyes. »But how could I leave him like this? It's my fault that he’s in this condition in the first place! Just because I had to fool around and make jokes instead of focussing on the mission, Kurt had to go back in! It should have been me, Ororo, and nothing you’ll say could ever convince me otherwise.«

He sat down on his chair again all the while staring angrily at his friend. He knew that his anger was misplaced, he knew that he had no reason to be angry with her. He knew that it was wrong and Ororo knew that too, he guessed. She was wise enough to know what being hurt looked like. She was wise enough to know that Peter did not blame her or anyone else. It was his fault. And she was wise enough to not tell him differently.

»You fucked up, Peter, yes, maybe.« She started with this strong accent of hers as she crossed her arms. »You should have taken the situation more seriously, yes, undoubtedly. But, Peter, it is not your fault that Kurt went back in. He knew what he was doing. He knew that it was too dangerous. He knew that he could die. He did it anyway and none of us could have stopped him. Even if you had focused on your task, even if you had done everything in your power to stop all of this, none of us could say if the outcome had been a different one in the end. Our good friend Kurt here has a hero-complex, Peter. You know that. Kurt is always very eager to risk his own life just to save someone, just to be a hero. And he is. He saved this little girl. That is the most important thing, at least for him. Had it been you who would have ended up like this, he would do the same thing as you do now, I promise you that. And just like you, he would refuse to go. And I would probably have the very same conversation with him now. Yes, you did fuck up, but you have given your best, Pete. No one could have known what would happen. No one could have known that they would destroy the building. You did everything you could and now it is time to take care of yourself. If your places were swapped, would you want Kurt to sit around and stink up the place? Would you want him to be miserable and tired?«

Of course not, he wanted to say. If their places would be swapped he would want to say to Kurt that it wasn't his fault, that only he himself was to blame for his own injuries, that he should go, relax, eat, clean himself up, get his wounds looked at and then come back to him. Still, despite the fact that he knew those things, he could not say it. He could not rise. He was glued to the chair.

»Would it help you to have something of him while you are not inside this room?«

This time he had an answer for her immediately. »We share a room, you know?« He mumbled. »If I want something of him, I could just go into our room.« Usually, everyone in this school had their own room, but Kurt and Peter had decided to share one after dating for over a year and after they had already shared a room as Peter’s leg had been broken and Kurt out of commission for a while. They were always together anyway, except for the hours they would spend in different classes. The Professor had first looked at this arrangement with concern, but they had been quick to convince him of its benefits. Not to mention the benefits this had for them. Of course, just to stay up to code, they still had their separate beds, this was a school after all. Which did not mean that they wouldn't push their beds together from time to time.

»That's not what I meant.« With a small sigh, his friend produced something out of the right front pocket of her jeans and dangled the item in front of his eyes for a moment. »They had to remove it for the operation. You weren’t there and the others too occupied with their own injuries and stuff. So, I took it to keep it safe. I didn't want it to get lost. I figured it meant a lot to Kurt.«

Kurt had not once taken off his necklace since Peter gave it to him. He had often said that this necklace was his most precious and valuable possession. Of course, despite the fact that Kurt had come to America with nothing but his ridiculous circus suit on his body, he did not refer to the worth of the necklace in terms of financial worth. He referred to its emotional worth - because Peter gave it to him, because it showed his love for God, because it showed that _Peter_ loved him.

He took the necklace with trembling fingers out of Ororo’s hand immediately and wrapped the necklace around his fingers. »I gave it to him.« He explained quietly. »I even paid for it. I didn't steal it, you know?« Which made it all the more precious, he figured. He had worked to afford it and Kurt’s goofy smile as he had seen it, had been worth the hard work completely.  

»Are you leaving now or not?« Ororo asked softly as she began rubbing his right shoulder and finally, Peter nodded.

»I promise.«

※※※※※※※

**1982 - Szardos' Circus, Bavaria**

Something was wrong with him. He did not quite know what it was, though. The only thing he could say for sure was that he felt moody and antsy most of the time. Stefan had said it was normal to feel this way at the moment, at least as long as they would stay in Coburg, so close to the Wall that was dividing the country. He had never been this close to it, although he had always known about it, of course. Werner, on the other hand, always said that there was no reason to worry about it or to even be concerned by the Wall at all. As long as they stayed on this side of the Wall, in West Germany, everything was okay, he said.

Kurt, however, was curious about the world on the other side of that Wall. He wondered how the people on the other side were living their lives and if they were going about their days just as everyone else. Then again, he and his family could hardly be seen as an example for normality, he guessed. Of course, there were stories about life in East Germany from time to time on the radio. Apparently, numerous people from behind the Wall were trying to escape every now and then. So, he guessed, life on the other side could not possibly be that normal if people wanted to get away from it. The radio hosts often called the Wall the _Iron Curtain_ and just like a thick theater curtain, the Wall would not let get anything through.

Kurt was not dumb, however. He was reading a lot and he always stole his mother’s newspaper when she would not look. he knew about the state of war the world was in. They called it the _Cold War_ between the Soviets and the USA and in the middle of this war, lay Germany. And again, somehow Germany was the center of this war. He would never get behind the concept of war, he guessed. To him, human life was more important than having the command over certain territories. The Russians seemed to look at this very differently and his mother had once told him that the Soviets were brainwashing their fellow Germans on the other side of the Wall ever since the end of World War II. He did not know if she was right with that assumption, but he knew that he would probably never learn the truth anyway. They Wall would stay up forever and Germany would stay divided.

Going back to what Stefan had told him though, Kurt did not believe that the close proximity to the Wall was responsible for his mood swings. »He’s a teenager, Mom.« As he was walking past his mother’s caravan on this late June afternoon, Kurt could not help but eavesdrop as he heard his brother's voice coming out of their mother's caravan. »Don't worry about it too much.«

»You weren't like this and neither was Amanda.« His mother replied with a high-pitched voice, as she always did when she was annoyed about something. It did not take a genius to understand that they were talking about him. »So tell me, Stefan, why is he always getting into fights with Werner lately? Kurt never was like this before and you cannot tell me that his behavior changed that much only because he is going through puberty.«

»I can talk to him if you want me to.«

»Well, I do think you would have more success with him. After all, what can I tell him about the changes in his body?« She laughed a little and his brother chimed in.

»Yes, you did a poor job already back as I was his age. Leave it to me, Mom. I will have a real man to man conversation with our little elf.« Kurt was hurrying away from the caravan as fast as he could without teleporting. Teleporting had become a habit of his since he had first discovered this new power of his, but for fleeing a scene undetected, it was probably not very commendable - at least not as long as it would make quite the noise every time. The smell of sulfur usually only added to people getting suspicious.

Only when he was out of earshot or sight of the caravan, he teleported away and onto a branch of his favorite tree. There he sat for a moment and waited as he watched a spider building its web. Kurt had always liked to climb trees and now with his new power, it was, of course, a little easier than before. Still, during his practice, he would never use the power and especially not during his performances. Yes, he was a mutant and yes, people stared at him because he looked different, but his mother had always told him that he should not show off his powers in front of the audience. It was too dangerous, she would say. There were too many people out in the world who were searching for mutants like Kurt to experiment on them. Her reasoning behind not showing his powers was that as long as he would not show them, he was just a weird looking guy and not necessarily a mutant to the general audience. Around his large Carney family, however, he could show off his skill as he pleased. And now he would wait until Stefan would figure out where he was and stop right under the tree to-

»I know that you are up there, Kurt and I know that you plan on surprising me in dropping down there. Leave it be and come down so I can talk to you.« Well, that plan did not work out. With a frustrated groan, Kurt let himself drop down the branch, his tail tightly secured around it, his feet together and his arms dangling down carelessly. Stefan only grinned at him as they were on eye level for once - despite the fact that Kurt was upside down. Then again, it was not so very much unusual that his brother was upside down. He had not even heard Stefan approaching.

»You eavesdropped, didn't you?«

How was it even possible, that his brother always seemed to know everything? It was frustrating! So, Kurt did what every sixteen-year-old boy would do in such a situation and started pouting, even though it might not have the desired effect while hanging upside down.

»No?« He lied, but of course, to no avail.

»I thought it was against your beliefs to lie.« Stefan cocked his eyebrow at him as he put his hands on his hips the very same way their mother always did. Already Kurt sometimes caught himself doing the very same thing too. »Perhaps you are not taking this whole God-thing seriously enough, little imp.«

»I do!« Kurt immediately replied and felt his head turn purple. It was impossible to tell if it was because of the blood that was rushing into his head or because of the shame creeping up his neck, though.

»So?«

»Okay … Yes … I did eavesdrop.« He groaned.

»Great.« Stefan replied as he clapped his hands together shortly. »Then you already know what I want to talk to you about. So, come down there, let's talk.«

»Do I have to?«

»I have chocolate.« Chocolate had always been the magic word to summon the blue demon and so, within an instant, Kurt was down from the tree and right in his brother's face, demanding his sweet tribute.

As they sat down on the ground in front of the tree, Kurt did not waste time to start munching on his chocolate after Stefan had given the bar to him without any discussion. His brother was a wise man and he knew that arguing with Kurt about any form of candy was futile. »So« Stefan started yet again as he crossed his arms behind his head to lean comfortably against the tree. Kurt decided that he would keep it to himself that there was a spider in dangerous proximity to his brother's right hand. It was much more fun to see him freak out as soon as he would notice the spider crawling onto him.

»So« Kurt replied with his mouth full of chocolate.

»So puberty, right? _the big P_.« Suddenly his brother did not seem as comfortable with this conversation as he had made their mother believe that he was.

»I’m sure that this is not _the big P,_  but please, do continue.« It was easy to throw his brother off like this, really, especially when he was that uncomfortable to talk about something with him. Sometimes Kurt found it a little odd, that everyone seemed to think that he was so unaware of puberty, though.

»I'm sure you have a lot of questions.«

»About what?«

»Puberty.«

»Ah, _puberty_. _The big P_.« He mocked his brother with a large grin on his blue face. »No. No, I don't have questions about puberty.«

»But I'm sure that you do have noticed that your body is going through a few changes, you know? Surely you have to have some questions about this.« And just like this, Stefan was suddenly not the only one who felt desperately uncomfortable in this situation.

»Stefan, you are aware that I am sixteen years old, right?«

»Of course.«

»I hit puberty when I was fourteen. I know about the changes my body is going through.«

»Like?«

»Uncontrollable teleportation.«

»That's really not what I meant, Kurtie.«

»I am aware what you mean. I read a lot of books, you know? I know everything there is to know about puberty. And no, I am not confused because of my body or anything else, it's just…«

»Just?«

»I don't get why I am so mad all the time.«

»It's normal.« Stefan started and for some reason, Kurt felt like his brother a) did not know what to say and b) that it was not normal at all. »It's your hormones getting all confused and excited, that's all. But you should really try not to get involved in fights so much, little brother. And why do you fight with Werner that much anyway?« Kurt attested that his brother sucked at giving explanations on this particular field.

Kurt bit down a little harder than necessary on his chocolate bar and almost bit his finger at the same time. His hormones were getting confused and excited? Well, no shit, Sherlock. As if he had not noticed that the morning he had woken up with a tent in his pants for the first time and nearly freaked out so much that he had ended up on the ceiling. Blue or not, he was just a teenage boy, after all. Somehow, however, Kurt wondered if _he_ was the weird one after all. »How am I supposed to know this?« He sighed.

»Well, shouldn't you know why you are so angry with him all the time? After all, you are the one fighting with him, right?« _Touché_ , he thought. At least that was a very true assumption of his brother. Maybe Stefan would get his grip back now.

»I wouldn't call it that.«

»Then what would you call it?«

»Differences in opinion.«

»Opinions on what?«

Again, Kurt paused and further devoured his chocolate. »I don't want to talk about it.« He could almost feel his brother’s confused and surprised eyes on him as he said this. After all, usually Kurt came to his brother with every little thing that was troubling him. A while ago, he would have talked to Amanda too about his problems, but since she had started dating Werner, nothing was the same anymore and he did not feel as if he could talk to her about the things troubling him anymore. »I just … don't like him. Mandy is so different since they started dating.«

It took his brother a moment, but then a small chuckle escaped him and before Kurt knew it, Stefan had wrapped his right arm around his narrow shoulders and ruffled with his left hand through Kurt’s hair. For now, he had escaped the spider on the tree. Soon enough, the insect would fall down his brother’s shirt collar and Stefan would suffer a heart attack. Well, at least Kurt had something to laugh about then. Now, however, he just squirmed in Stefan's tight grip and tried to escape. »You are jealous!« Stefan concluded laughing. »You think Amanda does not have time for her little brother anymore now that she has a boyfriend!«

Finally, Kurt managed to escape his brother and jumped back to his feet. »I'm not a baby, Stefan!« He growled and instinctively showed off his fangs.

»Oh, Kurt, come on, I was joking, baby brother. Come on and talk to me.« Stefan looked at him with pleading blue eyes and almost Kurt felt sorry for him, but then, he pointed at his brother with a small mischievous grin.

»There is a spider … There, _on your head_.« And thus, the drama unfolded and Kurt managed to teleport away in no time. He would have liked to look how his brother was dealing with his spider problem, but, if he had, he wouldn't have gotten away from him this easily for sure.

It was much later this day, after their practice, only hours before the circus would open its gates again for the audience, that he saw his sister and her boyfriend again. They were canoodling behind the make-up tent. It was true that he did not like Werner, but this dislike had only increased since he and his sister started their relationship. No, that was not true. His dislike of Werner had increased the moment Kurt had first noticed the way Amanda would look at Werner when he was practicing and showing off his chiseled body. Even now Werner was topless and his well-defined body out in the open for anyone to see. _Geez, show-off_. _Can't you put on a shirt, at least? I don't want to see that._ Even in his own head, he sounded a lot more bitter than he thought he would.

Would he look like this, would Amanda look at him the way she looked at Werner? Of course, it was wrong to think like this and he knew it. Amanda was his sister, even though not biological. They had grown up as siblings and yet, somehow, unlike Stefan, he had never really seen her as his sister. She had always been more like a very close friend and now … Now she was an adult and dating this prick. The truth was, even if he would look like Werner, Amanda would probably never look at him like this because unlike Kurt, Amanda did in fact just see her little brother in him. Somehow, Kurt did not really know what was worse. And even if he would not be Amanda’s foster brother, even if she would not see him as a brother, she would probably never look at him like this. He felt wrong even thinking about these things.

»Gross!« He spat and found a sad feeling of enjoyment as Werner and Amanda broke their kiss and looked at him in surprise. Amanda’s face was of a bright red although she usually was none to be easily embarrassed. Werner, however, seemed angry.

»Fuck off, Kurt.« He groaned before he turned back to Amanda, but, much to Kurt’s joy, Amanda seemed to have enough as she gently nudged her boyfriend away. »It's okay, Werner. I need to get dressed anyway and beforehand I need to talk to my mother about the show tonight.« Amanda addressed her boyfriend with a smile, but the look she threw at Kurt was far from being friendly before she started walking towards the big tent again. Still, Kurt couldn't help but snicker just a little, taking this as a win, before he himself turned around to walk off.

He did not get very far, though, because the next thing he knew was that Werner grabbed his tail and jerked him back like this. Kurt stumbled backward immediately and frowned as he pulled his tail free with a sound that could almost be mistaken as a whiplash. »Don't do this, it hurts.« Kurt growled at the older (and much taller) boy. Kurt still desperately waited for his long overdue growth spurt. One day he would be taller than this idiot, maybe even taller than Stefan. »You wouldn't pull the tail of a cat either, right?«

»If the cat was as ugly as you are, I would.« Werner hissed and though Kurt always tried not to let the words get under his skin, it was quite hard sometimes. Maybe it was just hard because it came from someone like Werner. It was indisputable that Werner was an attractive guy. He was tall, muscular, talented in what he was doing, blond, had deep blue eyes, a strong jaw with a bit of stubble, and even the imperfection that was the small scars every here and there on his body only added to his attractiveness. Kurt could admit that Werner was much more attractive than he would ever be. Even if he would not be blue or have normal hands and feet, he would still be not as attractive. Werner had always seemed to be the one who got it all. And now he got Amanda too.

»What's your problem, Werner?« Kurt growled and crossed his arms defiantly. He rather wanted to walk off, but he could not help but indulge in this argument with his arch nemesis which he would not be able to win anyway.

»You.« Well, it wasn't as if he hadn't expected this answer, to be honest. »You and your constant sneaking around Amanda. If I wouldn't know any better, I would say that you have found a liking to her.«

»She's my sister.«

»Exactly and that makes you even more of a freak, Kurtie. Stop following her around, okay?« Werner made an effort to sound calm and friendly but all it did was making Kurt feel even angrier. »It's not like you would have a chance with her anyway - or with anyone at all for that. I mean, look at yourself! Do you really think any girl would want to date something like this? Do you really think any girl would want something like this in her bed?« Kurt wanted to say something, come up with some witty remark, but as he opened his mouth he couldn't think of anything and just gasped for air like a goldfish. »I’m serious, Kurt. This is your last warning in this endeavor, okay? If I see you anywhere near Amanda again, I will tell her your dirty little secret and you wouldn't want that, right?« Kurt was almost frozen on the spot and so he didn't even flinch away as Werner suddenly grabbed his chin with one of his large, strong hands to hold him in place and force him to look him in the eyes. Blue, just like Stefan’s, but much less friendly. »Do you understand me?« Werner hissed, his voice only a dangerous little whisper and Kurt nodded shortly. »I want to hear you say it, Kurt. Do you understand me?«

He hated it to feel so weak in comparison to Werner. He wasn't weak. He knew that he was quite strong, both physically and mentally. He could do things no one else in this circus could do and if he wanted to, he could have easily lifted Werner off his feet with his tail and thrown him against the tent. He didn't, though. He didn't dare to. »I understand.« Kurt finally replied after a short moment of struggling and casting his eyes down to not look at Werner.

»Say it again and look me in the eyes, you little shit.« Werner demanded with a low growl. How could Amanda have fallen for someone like this? Kurt had always thought he would know her better. With one last moment of hesitation, he looked at Werner again.

»I understand.« He repeated even quieter than before and as Werner let go of him, he felt oddly defeated. Only half-heartedly he noticed the look Werner threw over Kurt's right shoulder before he patted both his shoulders and gave them a hard squeeze as one would probably do with a friend.

»Wonderful.« He said a little louder than before as if to make a point of it. »We see each other at the show!« Finally, Werner let go of him for real and walked off like nothing had happened. The reason for his behavior got apparent a second later as Kurt was confronted with his brother’s voice again sounding from behind him.

»Everything alright, Kurt?« He didn't know what Stefan had seen. He looked flustered, probably because of the spider, as Kurt turned around and walked past him without saying another word. For now, he just wanted to get away.  

 

**-End of Chapter 6-**


	7. Chapter 7

**1985 - Xavier’s School for gifted youngsters, New York**

The shower felt better than Peter was ready to admit - and getting out of the suit even more so. As he had stripped inside of the bathroom adjoining his and Kurt's room, he had felt as if he was ripping off his own skin. Although he had wanted to hurry and to be back at Kurt's side as fast as possible (which shouldn’t be as hard, considering his _gift)_ , for once in his life, he took his time. Inside of his shower cubicle, he was alone and no one could see him or hear him over the noise of the water. No one could witness how he was crumbling down at the thought of losing Kurt in here. Strange how attached he had gotten towards this blue elf, even if he had not intended to. He had had his fair share of romantic involvements in the past (he was twenty-five years old, after all!), if he could count the very few girls he had dated during school, but he had been a loser in the eyes of most and thus not gotten more action than a turtle, he would assume.

After his last girlfriend had left him, he had not desired to get involved in a relationship of any sort, despite the fact that he had not been quite as in love with her as he had thought back in the moment. Well, it was always easier to sort things out and understand one’s own feelings after a bit amount of time had passed. Then again, in retrospect, he had never felt as strongly for anyone as he did now for Kurt. Maybe, he thought, it was because there was no need to hide anything from him. Kurt was always showing his true self and when Kurt was beside him, Peter felt courageous enough to do the same most of the time. At least when they would be alone in their room, Peter would be able to act like himself and not hide behind his usual facade of sarcasm and dry humor. That he was much older than his friends and most students in this school did not make it particularly easier for him. But being around Kurt, who could do nothing to hide who he was and was still strong and happy go lucky most of the time, was inspiring and had been from the start. Maybe that was what had drawn him towards Kurt.

For as long as ten whole minutes, Peter just enjoyed the feeling of the hot water cleansing his bruised skin and as he later stepped out of the shower and knotted one of the white towels around his narrow hips, the bathroom mirror was fogged. A part of him did not want to have a look at his face anyway. He could already imagine how he was looking after three whole days without sleep and the bare minimum of food and water. He had only eaten the snacks that his friends had brought him and even to that he had needed to force himself. His stomach was growling at him quite loudly now as he slowly shuffled out of the bathroom, making him realize that his body was running only on fumes now. Maybe that was why he felt so slow.

Peter did not escape the look at himself in the mirror for long, though. As soon as he stepped inside their room again, his eyes fell on the mirror that was standing in one corner of the room - a leftover from the previous inhabitant of this room perhaps. Kurt liked the mirror, so they had kept it. He had said it would remind him of the circus when he would be able to have a look at himself in full.

His entire body was covered in dark bruises and angry purple blotches. It wasn't as if he had not felt their existence before, but to see it in full detail now was something else, he supposed. At least now he could see what Ororo had seen earlier this day. He did look like shit indeed. His face was even paler than usual, his lips dry and bitten. The dark shadows under his eyes were apparently the worst of all of this, however. He needed sleep. He knew that he needed sleep, but he had no time for this. He had no time to stand around and wallow in his own misery either.

Yet, his eyes fell on the picture frame on his desk on the left-hand side of the room. Peter was almost magnetically pulled towards it and as he picked the photo up, he almost forgot all about his plan to get redressed and find something to eat before going back to Kurt. It was a photo of them, of course. Jean had taken it during last years Halloween party. It was nothing special, really, they were not even particularly lovey-dovey on the photo, mostly because they rarely were like this in public anyway. It was just them, making silly faces in their silly Halloween costumes. Kurt had decided to show up on the party as a mummy and Peter still remembered how hard it had been to wrap Kurt's tail in bandages because, from time to time, Kurt's tail had a mind of its own and had decided to not get bandaged by Peter at all. Peter, on the other hand, had dressed as a werewolf, much to Kurt's amusement. Kurt’s goofy looking toothy smile had lit up the entire room and made him grin even now. That was just the effect Kurt had on people. he was always happy, always smiling, always making other people laugh, always the life of the party with his tricks and his mischievous mind. They had been the perfect partners in crime from the get-go and a force to be reckoned with.

As he caught himself brushing his thumb over the image of Kurt's stupid face, Peter put the frame down again immediately and finally turned to his dresser. There was no time, for this, even for someone as fast as he was. It was either that or his extremely impatient personality. Only when Kurt was around, Peter was able to slow down, only with him he enjoyed doing nothing, just lying around uselessly, enjoying the other’s company. As he put on his favorite black Pink Floyd Shirt and a pair of gray jeans he reminded himself of the fact that their relationship had not been perfect all the time and that they had had their fair share of fights in the past like any other couple would. Still, the good times weight heavier than the few times they had argued with one another.

He looked down at the silver necklace that Ororo had given him and that he had put on his nightstand before he had escaped his suit in an epic little dance and shaking session. Kurt was always laughing his little blue ass off when Peter had troubles getting out of his suit. Well, not everyone could be as flexible as the former acrobat. After a moment of hesitation, he closed the necklace around his own neck and finally left the room. He didn't even quite know why he did it, why he decided to wear the necklace himself now, but he told himself that it was for safe keeping and because it felt right and it felt nice having something of Kurt with him at all times now - until he would get Kurt back.

On his way down into the cafeteria a million thoughts were occupying his sorry head and so, as he walked past the Professor's office, he had almost not noticed the noise that was coming from inside. He stopped as he grew aware that it was not just noise but loud voices, a heated argument, maybe even. Slowly, Peter moonwalked a few steps back and closer to the door. The Professor had always been a weird guy and Peter could still remember vividly how he had first met the old pothead in his mom’s basement, but he was only rarely arguing so loudly with anyone - well, except Erik. But although one voice belonged to the Professor, the other was distinctively female.

»You will not tell him, Charles!« It was Mystique, without a doubt. Her voice he would recognize under a thousand, plus, she really was the only adult woman in the facility that was so close to the Professor that she would call him Charles - or dared to argue with him. »I will not allow it!«

»You cannot hide from the truth forever, Raven! I thought we have been through this already! You cannot hide the fact that he is your child anymore, not when he is on the brink of death! He is your son, Raven! _Jesus Christ!_ And why didn't you tell me anyway? Why didn't you come to me for help back then?«

Although he understood what was being said and although he understood what the words meant, they failed to register in his brain. Suddenly, his brain was just all too slow entirely. He had had moments like this before and his friends had usually quite a good laugh at him when he was too slow to understand something, while his brain was usually running a hundred miles per hour at all times and got even too fast for Jean to catch up mostly.

»It's not nice to listen in on other people's conversations.« The voice of Erik Lensherr was almost cutting through the air as it sounded from behind him. Peter whirled around so fast that he was sure that it was looking like a small spontaneous whirlwind in the middle of the hallway. Had the situation been any different, Peter would have probably spit out something witty or even funny, but the situation was not different and he was still thinking about the fact that he had somewhat blurted out in the middle of a disastrous mission that the infamous Magneto was his father. Worse even, now that very same infamous Magneto knew that he was Peter’s father.

As their eyes met, Peter's throat felt as dry as he had drunken the Sahara through a straw. His father, as weird as it still felt to call him that even in his own mind, stood only a few feet away from him, his right hand buried in the pocket of his black pants and a look that Peter was not able to begin to understand on his face. As always, Erik Lensherr gave his best expression of an annoyed lunatic as he was staring at Peter with icy blue eyes, his face unreadable. Oh, Peter would give everything in that moment to be a mind reader.

»I wasn't listening in on them. It's not my fault when they are yelling at each other.« He replied as he crossed his arms and replied his father's stare just as unflinchingly while his heart was racing in his chest. What if Erik would want to talk to him about everything _now_? Of course, he knew that he needed to talk to him at some point about the whole being related thing, of course, he knew that there was no escaping it forever and that a part of him even wanted to talk to him, but he also knew that there was no way he would be able to focus on this right now.

»Peter, maybe-«

»I have to go now.« Peter interrupted the older mutant before the situation could become any more uncomfortable. »I need to go back to Kurt.« He could see how Erik was opening his mouth to say something, but Peter, as always, was a little faster. »See ya.« And with that, he just fled the scene.

After his initial shock about the revelation he had experienced through a closed door and his near heart attack while talking to his father had eased off a little, he was snacking tomato sauce with untoasted white bread in the dining hall because he could not focus on getting something better to eat and he didn't care anyway.

Sadly, it did not take long for Jean Grey to find him and take a seat across from him. It took her only a moment to judge his choice of food without saying anything but only let out a small sound of disapproval before resting her chin on her right hand after placing her elbow on the tabletop. Being the adult he was, Peter made extra sure to look as if he was enjoying his meal now that he could feel her disgust radiating from her body. He wouldn't lie though, a part of him was glad not to be alone right now, but in the same instant, he didn't know what to say or do. He had never been good at talking to others while his mind was occupied by other things. Still, Jean’s blue eyes rested upon him without blinking and so, after a while, Peter leaned back in his chair and stuffed the last piece of white bread that he had previously dunked in the sauce into his mouth.

»I have a secret Jean.« He explained. Maybe it would lift a bit of the burden he was carrying around if he would just talk to her about it, but as always, Jean was quick to remind him of _who_ she was.

»Duh.«

Of course, she already knew. Peter did not know (and frankly, he did not want to know) how long she had known the truth already. Had she known about Raven's dark secret from the beginning or had she just learned of it because Peter’s thoughts were screaming it into the endless void for every telepath to hear? If the latter would be the case, she kept her composure pretty well. He had expected a little more surprise or shock even. Well, any kind of a human reaction would have done it. Scott would probably end up blasted through the ceiling if he would ever learn the truth about all of this. »Alright, alright, I know, geez! Don't tell anyone, okay? I don't want anyone to know. Not even Scott, Jean! No, especially not Scott! Scott can't keep a secret and if he would tell Kurt before I get the chance…«

»Relax.« Jean sighed and grabbed his hand over the table with her free one, not changing her position even in the slightest. »It's not that it's news to me, really anyway.«

»So since when did you know? And why didn't you say anything?«

Now she was looking at him as if men and women really came from different planets all together and would not talk the same language. Her eyebrows almost vanished in her hairline. »I mean, from the start, I guess? And no, Peter, not because I read her mind, but because I do have fully functioning eyes, you know? You just need to look at them side by side when she is in her real form. The resemblance is uncanny and not just because they are both blue.«

»Does Kurt now?« He felt stupid even asking this question. Of course, Kurt didn't know. Had he known it, he would have said something to Peter. Well, unless it was a topic he had not wanted to discuss with anyone. If he had known, maybe his mother (as weird as it was to refer to Raven as Kurt's mother) was maybe not even aware that he knew.

»No.« Jean replied with yet another, but deeper, sigh. »No, he doesn't have the slightest idea. Maybe he does not want to recognize the similarities or even consider the possibility because this way he would need to deal with the questions that this realization would bring up too. Kurt, well … Of course, you know him better than anyone here, but, you know how he does not like to deal with the questions of his parentage and why they have given him away. Even if he had suspected something, he would probably rather sweep it under the carpet so he wouldn't need to ballast his mind with all the negative emotions that dealing with it would bring to him.«

She was right, of course, and sometimes it was quite annoying to talk to someone who was always right. Still, he appreciated that she was honest with him now. »I won't tell him.« Peter decided as he drove a hand through his hair. Jean looked at him surprised, but she was quick to catch on. »Me neither.«

And just like that, they had made a pact to keep Mystique's secret a secret even from Kurt. Yes, of course, everything inside of his mind urged him to tell his boyfriend the truth, as he later arrived back at the room Kurt was kept in and changed places with Ororo beside his bed again. Of course, he wanted to tell Kurt the truth. Kurt deserved to know where he came from. It was true that he hadn't often talked about it, but Peter knew that Kurt had the desire to know, as every kid would in a situation as his. He knew that Kurt wanted to know it and yet, Peter had decided that it was not his place to decide this. But, and that he had also decided, he would confront Mystique about it sooner or later.

She should be the one to tell her son who she really was and it was on her to tell her son why she had given him away to a circus. And Peter would be there to put the broken pieces back together afterward.

※※※※※※※

**1983 - Szardos Circus, Hessen**

Kurt had expected a bit of a backlash when he would confront his family about his plans for the near future. He would lie if he would say he hadn't expected his family to react the way they did. Still, he had not quite expected them to stare at him like a bunch of hyenas would stare at a fluffy little bunny rabbit. Then again, compared to his mother and Amanda, despite his looks, this comparison was almost too accurate for comfort. »Well … I mean … It's not for long…« Suddenly, he felt a lot smaller than he actually was. During the summer of last year, he had finally had his long-awaited growth spurt, although not as much as he would have liked it. He was 5’9’’ by now, at least if he was to trust his mother in her judgment. She was the one with the measuring tape, after all. Still, under their judging looks, Kurt started to feel tiny and caught himself even making himself look smaller as if looking smaller would help him in any way.

There was still the familiar noise coming from the big tent, the laughter of the audience as the clowns were going about their performance, the cheering, the clapping and the music of the hurdy-gurdy. All of this was the embodiment of haimish for Kurt.

»Since when do you want to leave us?« His mother was the first to speak up finally, her hands on her hips, tapping her left foot impatiently on the ground while Amanda almost mirrored her mother, with the only difference being was that she was crossing her arms instead. Amanda would soon start her show for tonight, she was already in full costume and makeup, looking gorgeous as she always did. Stefan had his hands burrowed in the pockets of his pants and looked at his brother with surprise and a bit of confusion too. His new costume looked quite good on him.

Last winter, Stefan had been promoted to be the new animal trainer of the circus after the old one had had an unfortunate accident with Leopold. As his tail started to softly sway behind him from side to side, Kurt could not help but feel guilty by the choice of words his mother was using. Of course, he was aware that his mother had chosen her words wisely and exactly to make him feel a little guilty. If anyone, his mother knew best how to talk to him and what buttons she would need to press to get the desired reaction. It was not that he would not want to argue with her, but then again, she was his mother, she had raised him and yes, he did feel guilty. »I’m not _leaving_ , Mom.« He sighed.

»No? What would you call it then?« Amanda shot back immediately and now her face was a grim mask of anger. It was true that they had grown apart a little since she and Werner had started dating but nonetheless, Amanda was rarely angry with him at all. Well, except for the times he would play pranks on her. But no one really held a grudge against him for far too long. He was too charming!

»I mean … It's not for forever… I just want to-«

»I know it hadn't been easy in the past few months, Kurt, but-«

»Oh, Mom, come on. Really.« As ever, Stefan was his savior as his brother let out a frustrated little groan and stepped away from his mother and sister to circle around Kurt and wrap his left arm around his shoulders, taking his position beside Kurt. Stefan probably couldn't take it anymore, seeing Kurt standing in front of those very dominant and demanding women like a deer in the headlights of a truck. »You both act as if he was abandoning us.«

»Isn't he?« Amanda hissed.

»No, he isn't. He just wants to see a bit more of the world than our circus has to offer. He is almost seventeen, you guys. He wants to travel and make his own experiences away from the circus. So what's the big deal?«

»The big deal is that he isn't safe away from the circus, Stefan! Have you forgotten what happened last time?« As his mother looked from his brother back to Kurt, he could feel his naked feet sinking in the ground and embraced the feeling of hopefully being swallowed whole by the ground. How could he forget that? Of course, he had not forgotten how he had been attacked by those fascists, of course, he had not forgotten the pain he had lived through afterward, but he could not live in fear for the rest of his life just because of this one incident, right? He had fallen down the tightrope or trapeze numerous times and broken a few bones more often than not, still, he always went back up and tried it again.

Life was just too precious to be spent in fear.

»Oh, dear Lord, Mom! He is no little kid anymore! Stop underestimating him! Kurt can protect himself, he is clever and he can handle himself. I'm sure, if you would just trust him a little more, you would be surprised. Come on, Mom, let him go on his little adventure.« Despite Stefan’s pleading in favor of his baby brother’s plans of seeing the world all on his own, his mother's position was clear. Kurt was not going to leave and even Stefan could not convince her to change her mind. And so, after their little discussion had found a premature end, everything had gone back to normal. The show had gone on like nothing had happened outside and Kurt had shown his usual cheery self in front of the astonished audience. As he later found himself in his bed, however, he found it impossible to sleep. It was January and thus quite cold in his caravan at night, even with his thick blanket and woolen socks. But even if it hadn't been so cold, Kurt wouldn't have been able to sleep anyway.

He was tossing and turning in his bed, in frustration, desperate to find a position in which he could maybe somehow find a bit of sleep. By now, he was almost impossibly entangled in his warm blanket. Only his tail, miraculously, was still free and dangling down from the bed that he had squeezed in the back of the small caravan. Last winter, Stefan had decided that his baby brother was old enough to have his own home, being a teenager and all. They had gotten the caravan quite cheap out of second hand and ever since Kurt was quite proud of his small little home that was stuffed to the brim with his various costumes. He still liked his pirate costume the most.

Despite the late hours, just a little bit of light shone through the blinds in front of the window that was located over his bed and as he pulled the blinds open just a bit, he could see the full moon looming over the clearing and the quiet circus. It was probably way past midnight already and Kurt Wagner was unable to sleep, great. Just as he was about to pull his blanket over his head, however, there was a knock on the door.

He didn't ask who it was and he did not make a move either. If it was his mother, he did not wish to see or speak to her, if it was Amanda, she could keep her anger to herself and if it was Stefan- The door opened from outside and Kurt was able to see the dark silhouette of a man climbing inside of his vehicle as he risked a glimpse from behind his blanket, illuminated only by the dim light of the fairy lights and the moon outside. »Kurt?« He didn't answer, only made himself a little smaller under his blanket. »Come on, Elf, I know you are awake.«

Of course, his brother would know that he was awake. Stefan always knew when Kurt was awake. One could argue that this was only because Stefan had spent hours staring his baby brother awake when they were little and Kurt sleeping peacefully in his crib. His foster mother had told him how Stefan had stood at his crib and just stared at little Kurt until the baby elf had woken up under his watchful eyes, thus giving Stefan an excuse to pick him up and carry him around.

»Kurt« Stefan tried again as he stopped right in front of Kurt's bed and began pulling on his blanket which Kurt immediately grabbed harder. This was about survival now.

»Whaaaaaat?« He finally groaned as he allowed the blanket to slip deep enough so that he could make a show out of staring at Stefan with his bright yellow eyes. He had noticed that his eyes seemed to get better and better in the darkness with every year that was passing. Maybe that was only one more power his mutation had brought with it, maybe that was just a side effect of everything else.

Stefan laughed and sat down heavily on the edge of Kurt's bed almost burying his little brother under his weight like this. »Oh, good, you're awake.« He grinned sheepishly as he ruffled through Kurt's thick black hair. It was Stefan who had helped Kurt dye a few strands of hair blue last December. He had wanted to try red, but his mother had been adamant that blue was more his color.  

»What do you want?« Kurt sighed and tried to kick him, to no avail.

»Kurt« Stefan started and sounded a lot more serious than before all of the sudden, even if his voice was still warm as he did so. »I know what Mom said, but I still think you should go and find your own adventure. I believe in you, Kurt, and I just wanted you to know this. You are a lot stronger than she thinks.«

»I don't think so.« He scoffed and grabbed his blanket harder again as if it was some sort of shield against his brother or the world in general.

»Well, but I do. Mom and Amanda underestimate you, Kurt. You have learned so much in the past few years, even to stand up for yourself.« Then, with a sigh, Stefan looked at the ceiling. »I won't lie, I was worried when you vanished a few years ago and came back all beaten up. I wanted to go into town and rip those guys apart, but then you showed me that you are able to get back to your feet even after an experience like this. I know that Werner is hard on you and mistreats you, still, you have learned to stand tall and hold your chin high and that is something most adults don't know how to achieve. Don't let mom thwart you, Kurtie. You have everything you need to make it out there, I'm sure of it. And if you can't, you can always teleport back home, right?«

Suddenly he felt unsure as he sat up a little. »But what if I don't find my way back home?«

»You always do, Kurt. Do not make yourself smaller than you are. You are _the incredible Nightcrawler_ , after all.«

» _The incredible Captain Nightcrawler…_ «

As Kurt left his caravan a little later, he only had his trusty backpack filled with the little amount of money he possessed and a decent amount of clothes. He was wearing the suit he usually liked to wear during his performances because he thought he could never be wrong with a suit, or at least his mother had told him that in the past. In addition to that factor, the suit was the warmest outfit he possessed. The dark red coat and the yellow shirt with the ruffled front would keep him warm, despite the fact that his dark pants were a little too short for him by now and despite the fact, that she had no shoes. His mother had given up trying to force him into shoes by now.  The only shoes he would feel comfortable wearing would be handcrafted personally for him anyway and that was much too expensive at the rate his feet had been growing lately. He could only hope that at least his feet were done growing by now.

He met Stefan at the entrance. His brother was waiting for him in the cold January air only clad in a pair of dark jeans and a t-shirt. Then again, unlike Kurt, Stefan was never freezing. Kurt was not a fan of drawn out goodbyes, and he told himself that he could always come back in the blink of an eye anyway. Still, he was glad as Stefan hugged him so tightly as if it was the last time they would ever get to see each other. A part of him did not even want to let go of him and just stay in the circus forever instead, throwing away his initial plans and just accepting that this was the best life he could get. Yet, it was Stefan who broke their hug after a moment and grabbed his shoulders with a certain force, looking at him sternly. He had to leave. If he wouldn't do it now, he wouldn't do it at all and Stefan had always been good in showing him what was important, leading him to the right path.

»You have money, you have clothes, and you have your powers, little Elf.« Stefan listed calmly as if to make sure that Kurt had indeed thought about everything he needed. Kurt only nodded and pulled the scarf his mother had knitted for him a little tighter around his thin neck and his matching hat deeper over his pointed ears. His mother always used to knit him scarfs, mittens, and hats - and always in blue although Kurt's favorite color was red - as she very well knew. Well, he wouldn't complain. It was the thought that counted and the scarf, his mittens and the hat were warm and soft and smelled like home. »Chin up, Kurt and write me a postcard.«

»What about Mom? She will be angry…«

»Don't worry about her. I’ll deal with her. You'll see, when you come back she will have forgotten her anger and will be proud of you instead. This is your chance, Kurt, don't waste it. You don't have to stay at the circus just because you was raised here. You are free to follow your own path and make the most out of your life.« But what about Stefan or Amanda? Kurt had never questioned if they were happy being a part of this circus. He had never questioned if they wished to stay with the circus forever. Growing up, being part of the circus and this large family had been normal and there had never been anything to question about it. Of course, he would stay forever, of course, everything would stay as it was. Maybe he really was starting to grow up because now, with almost seventeen years of age, nothing seemed so certain and natural anymore. Maybe Stefan was encouraging him like this because he himself would not be able to leave because it was him who would take over from his mother later. Maybe he encouraged him like this because Kurt, as being only a foster child, was not tight so firmly to the circus as he was.

»You should have become a teacher…« Kurt snickered, but Stefan only pinched his nose, before he let go of Kurt. He thought of something to say, but then he couldn't think of anything, so he nodded again instead.

»See ya.« Stefan smiled and stepped back and Kurt repeated the words quietly, almost unhearable through his scarf before he teleported to the other side of the gate and started walking. No looking back now. He was on a trip to adventure now and the whole world was waiting for him.

He was in Frankfurt, around thirty-four kilometers away from the circus, as it happened. He had arrived in the town around noon and spent all day wandering around and looking at everything with huge eyes. He had been to Frankfurt before with the circus, but he had never seen the city itself, the capital of the German economy. He had traveled largely by foot but allowed himself a few teleport jumps too so he would be quicker every now and then. Maybe a part of him feared that his mother might catch him otherwise. It was a stupid thing to fear, of course, but knowing his mother, she would probably spank him so hard that he would be unable to sit for one straight week.

The evening had already fallen over Frankfurt and brought with it a wave of snow that was slowly gathering on the streets. Though he was excited, he felt a little exhausted after the trip and his day of sightseeing, he didn't quite know where to go. The astonished looks of the regular people followed him all around. Well, that was indeed something he had not thought about as he had left home. He could walk into a hotel, of course, but he doubted that he would have enough money to get a room. And then there was this whole being blue thing … He really doubted that any hotelier would give him a room even if he would provide the money for it.

However, he didn't even get as far as to really worry about the situation, as suddenly a hand landed on his left shoulder and his tail immediately twitched and wound itself around his attacker's arm to pull it away with much more force than he would have usually administered. In a fraction of a second, Kurt whirled around to face his possible attacker.

»Whoa there, easy!« It was a man. It was a young man. He was clad in a black leather jacket that seemed entirely too thin for January in Germany, and a ripped blue jeans with all kinds of patches and blotches of paint. His hair was black, but his blonde eyebrows suggested that this was not his natural hair color. He was wearing piercings - and a lot of them too. Two rings through his bottom lip, one through his nose what made him look like a bull, another ring through his left eyebrow and both his ears were almost unrecognizable at this point because of all the metal. He looked frightening at first glance to Kurt, but then he thought that this man was probably not as frighteningly looking as he. »Oh my God, Dude! Weird! I didn't think this tail of yours was real! Rad! Look at you, all blue and … lizard-y. Oh man, my friends would flip out if they could see you!« Unlike the group of fascists Kurt had encountered as he had been fourteen years old, this guy seemed not to be disgusted by his looks or even angry because of the way Kurt looked at all. Quite the contrary, actually. He smiled at him widely and Kurt felt himself relax a bit.

He should not judge a book by its cover, that was what Father Michael had taught him and his life in the circus too. Only because this guy was pierced and weirdly dressed, it didn't mean that he was dangerous. He felt almost a little ashamed of himself for even flinching at the sight of him. That hadn't been very friendly of him. »I'm Kurt.« He murmured from behind his scarf as he carefully let go of the other man’s wrist with his tail. »Kurt Wagner.«

»Nice to meet you, Kurt! I’m Tom and let me guess you just escaped from a circus, right?«

»Well…«

»I'm just joking, my friend! Hey, why don't you join me? There is a party in an old warehouse. I'm actually headed there right now. Why don't you come with me?«

»Well…«

»Great! I promise you that you will have the time of your life, my dear blue friend.«

And that was how his life and his problems escalated. Though he had not initially wanted to join the party, a part of him had urged him to. This was the first day of his new life after all and why shouldn't he enjoy himself? He should have probably known that things would not turn out like this. Looking back on it later, he would surely shake his head over his younger, stupider self. But, in the situation itself, there was nothing he could have done about the drugs that had been put into his drink and there was nothing he could have done about being tied up, blindfolded and locked away in a cage like an animal.

 

**-End of Chapter 7-**


	8. Chapter 8

**1985 - Xavier’s School for gifted youngsters, New York**

Time dripped away slowly. Drip, drip, drip into the river of time that was streaming down lazily. Or was it the sound of the IV dripping into Kurt’s veins? He would have needed to turn his eyes towards the IV to tell, but instead, he kept staring dead ahead into his father's gray looking face, while he listened to the sound of Kurt’s lungs being forcefully filled with air by the machine on the other side of the bed. The look on his father’s face was just as unreadable as he thought his own face must look like. Another thing they seemed to have in common.

»I think we have something to talk about.« The infamous Magneto finally broke the silence and thus granted Peter a small and very short-lived win as he had not been the first to break this veil of silence that had stretched out between them for the last couple of minutes ever since his own father had entered the room without waiting for Peter’s permission. He could not help but wonder if this man cared at all about Kurt or if he was now just here because of him. Either way, it did not seem to make a difference, really.

»Not now.«

»Peter« He interrupted himself with a sigh. It was not so unusual to hear Erik Lensherr sigh, despite popular belief. Most of the students and his fellow X-Men only saw in hm the big bad Magneto, who always had a plan and always kept a cool and level head. The truth was, however, that he was a very impatient man. Yet another thing Peter and Erik seemed to have in common. »No, really, this is truly getting ridiculous now. It has been a week and you cannot avoid talking about this forever.«

Peter cocked an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair a little more in such a way that should tell his father clearly that this was a challenge he was willing to accept. He could and he would avoid talking to him for the rest of his life if anyone would seriously dare him to. While Peter was an impatient man too, he was just as stubborn and he had been good in avoiding things for most of his life so far. »Who says I'm avoiding anything?«

»How's your mother?« The question came out of nowhere and yet Magneto achieved what he wanted to achieve in the first place in taking him aback like this. Although Peter knew that this was a trick to get him to talk, he decided to play along, maybe even to see if his father possessed something like a guilty consciousness at all.

»How should I know?« He replied cooly. »She kicked me out of her house almost two years ago and broke off any contact with me ever since. She is probably still cutting out food stamps from all the magazines she can dig her claws into.« It was not that they had been particularly well off during his childhood. His mother had been a single mother of two for most of his life, as Peter did not take his various stepdads into account. They had been no help anyway. But despite that and his mother’s badly paid minimum wage job, they had never been poor either.

His mother had understood how to gut her ex-husbands and make them pay alimony at least for a while. Wanda’s dad had at least paid child support, last thing he knew. Still, ever since he could remember, his mother had invested hours of her day, even going as far as to involve Wanda and him, to cut out food stamps and coupons out of magazines she had found or out of the newspaper she got every morning. Maybe that was even the reason why he had started to steal anyway. The illogical reasoning of a son that would justify his criminal offenses to help his mother. Maybe this was just a lazy cop out, after all, he had stolen quite a lot just for fun and just for his own personal gain.

»Why?« He seemed honestly surprised to hear that, at least. His eyebrows were slightly raised, his forehead covered in small wrinkles as he seemed to search for the reasoning Peter’s mother could have possibly had to throw out her son. Peter even found himself wondering, what kind of woman his mother had been, as Erik Lensherr had first met her. As a child, he had wanted to believe that his parents had been in love, desperately. Now as an adult he was aware that it had been probably just some short-lived love affair, maybe even just a one time thing. His mother had never really told him about this and he had not asked her. He had decided very early on that he loved his mother dearly and that he was contempt with just having her - and then his baby sister too as she came into his life. It had not always been easy, of course. The neighbors had more often than not whispered behind his mother's back for having him out of wedlock, but they had stood strong and tall against the looks they had gotten, a tight bond between them ever since the start. Only he and his mother, as a team, against the rest of the world. Well, until step dad number one had rolled around.

»Well, apparently she was furious that I was not just a kleptomaniac but also gay. Being a kleptomaniac had always been a fact she could overlook as long as she could get something out of it, the fact that I am a _gay_ kleptomaniac who is furthermore dating someone who is blue, has claws and a tail, was not so easy to overlook for her, apparently.« It was easy to sound unfazed by his mother’s behavior in the past in the face of a father who had left him before he had even been born. It was much harder to talk to his friends about these things, let alone to Kurt. Peter wanted to think that this was because it was important to him what his friends might think about him, but that he in comparison did not care so much about what his father might think about him.

»I am sorry to hear this.« Erik replied after a moment of hesitant silence and for once, Peter even believed him. His father was always rambling about _Mutant Pride_ and all this crap, but he felt as though his father was not just accepting of mutants, but accepting and open in general. He was, after all, not throwing Kurt’s metal bed at his gay son. Maybe he did not care if he was gay because he was a mutant and thus too important to take into consideration this flaw of character, as many took it. But maybe he was just accepting Peter as who he really was, not because he was a mutant and thus _inherently better_ , but because he was his son. It was impossible to tell.

»Nothing to be sorry about.« Peter shrugged his words off and made sure that his posture was as leisurely as possible in his chair beside his boyfriend’s sick bed, as if he would not care at all. In all honesty though, he was a little bit relieved that his father seemed not to care too much about his homosexuality. These were the eighties, after all, and the AIDS-crisis still an active point of discussion amongst those who were not fazed by it. Peter had always tried his best not to think too much about it, but the look of utter disgust on his mother’s face as he told her and introduced Kurt to her, had never truly left the back of his mind. »You weren't there, wasn't your fault.«

He did not wish to sound judgingly, after all, he did not know what lead his father to leave his mother or how deep their connection had been before he had left her. His mother had never made an effort to tell Erik about him, anyway. »Listen, if you think I am angry at you because you weren't there while I was growing up: Don't worry about it. I know that my mother can be quite a bitch if she so desires to. I can imagine that she was too proud to go out of her way to tell you that she was pregnant with me. If you didn't know about me, then it's not your fault that you weren't there, okay?«

Erik stayed silent for a moment. There was not much that could be said, Peter guessed. Erik knew now who he really was and they both were on the same page. There was nothing to be said or done about it now.

»I'm still sorry about this.« Erik said after a long pause between them. »And I wonder why you haven't said something to me earlier. You had two years to talk to me.«

»I was too busy wooing a blue elf.« He joked with a small glance to Kurt. Sadly, his jokes fell flat as of late, they missed their usual soul and twinkle of mischief in his eyes. »I didn't know how to approach this topic, you know? I couldn't just come to you and say _‘Oh, just in case you were wondering, I am your son. Can I call you Daddy now?’_ « He was almost sure he had seen a small grin flash over his dad’s face but it was gone too quickly. »Plus … Well, I wanted to tell you during the whole Apocalypse thing, you know? But you were in mourning over your other family and I … Well, it did not feel right to me to tell you at that point. And after that, the moment was gone and I didn't know what to do about it.«

»Well, you had no problem blurting it out the other day.«

»I was in shock, okay?« He groaned. »You were my only option to save his life and so it just came out like this. Don't worry, my friends knew the truth anyway.«

»So in two years you did not find out how to tell me but you told all of your friends.«

»One of them is a telepath, so strictly speaking I cannot always hinder them on finding out stuff about me. That's why I tend to be painfully honest with my friends.« Again he saw this sharklike grin flash over his father's features, before Magneto stepped a little closer and sat down on the other side of the bed where another chair stood waiting for visitors which would not come until later in the day. His friends were already back to business, visiting their classes and courses, practicing and being normal teenagers, while he could hardly even leave the room to take a bathroom break. He felt trapped, just as he did as he had lived in his mother’s basement, unable to escape his bubble.

»So, you and Kurt.« He suddenly started and Peter could not help but look at him with one eyebrow raised for dramatic effect. Was his father really attempting to talk about his relationship with Kurt now? »I think you heard what Mystique told Charles a few days ago. You know, the day you ran away from me.«

Peter rolled his eyes at this remark but flashed his dad a tired smirk anyway. »Yes. I heard it.« He sighed and rubbed his eyes. »She is his mother, right? So … do you have any objections to my relationship with him now? I mean she is your friend and you seem to be close and- Oh no, wait. Don't tell me you are his father too!« The thought only occurred to him just now, but it was a possibility wasn't it? Mystique seemed to have a thing for the infamous metal-bending mutant, after all! If Kurt and he would be half brothers…

»Don't be ridiculous.« Erik scoffed. »It is true that we have been close friends ever since we've met and yes, she wanted something more intimate than that for a long time, but it never came to this. Still, I find it remarkable.«

»What?« Peter scoffed, but could hardly hide how relieved he was. Then again, he wouldn't have cared. He wouldn't have told Kurt and just continued the way it had been. He was selfish like that.

»That you fell for her son of all people.«

»And why is that?«

»You see, Kurt is not conventionally attractive, Peter, as is Mystique in her true form.« If their conversation could get any weirder, now it was the time, apparently. »At least to other people, to blind people. I remember her as a young girl, still uncertain about her appearance because her whole life she had hidden herself behind that mask of perfection but to me she was beautiful in her true form. She is truly unique and that only added to her beauty in my eyes, while others did not accept her for who she really was and wanted her to put on a mask and change. The same is true for her son, I must say. It is remarkable to me that you are one of the very few people I have ever met who seem to see things as I do.«

»Just because he is blue doesn't mean he isn't attractive.« Peter mumbled as he again looked at Kurt. His condition had not improved for one week now and he did not know if it would. »I don't really care about the color of his skin or his tail or his claws. Well, it can be a little painful when he bites me for whatever reason.« He joked again. »It's his personality that has drawn me towards him, I guess. He is the kindest guy I have ever met, truly good at heart, truly a hero. Not like me. He makes me better as a person just by being around and keeping me out of trouble.« Remarkable, yes. It was truly remarkable that he and his father seemed to share the same values in this regard. They both did not seem to see the deformities of others or their shortcomings maybe. Peter, for instance, could not care less if Kurt needed a little more time to eat with a fork and a knife or even with buttoning up his shirts because of his hands. In his eyes, Kurt was just as perfect as anyone else - though maybe a lot cooler.

»He will make it.« His father spoke up again before Peter could get too lost in his thoughts, as if he had known. Despite how many of the others had already told him that, Peter could still not believe any of them.

»I'm not sure.« He replied but suddenly his throat felt dry again and his eyes were burning. _Ridiculous_. This was getting ridiculous! This whole situation was agitating. »His condition has not improved. It has been a week. He can’t even breathe by himself.«

»Even if the situation might look grim now, the boy seems to be a fighter.«

»What if he’s not strong enough? No one wants to admit it, but it’s my fault that he lies here. What if he dies?«

»Then you will have to live with this experience and learn from it. I know a thing or two about losing people. The pain will never vanish completely, it will stay in the back of your head at all times, but it will ease of at least a little, eventually.«

»It's not enough« Peter spat as he looked at his father with burning eyes. He would have loved to argue with him, would have loved to throw something at him, to vent out all his anger and frustration on him, but his father would not have any of it.

»It is what it is.«

※※※※※※※

**1983 - East Berlin, German Democratic Republic**

How could it be that everything had gone so very wrong in such a short amount of time? There was no minute, no hour, no day going by in which Kurt was not  asking himself that very question. He should have not gone with a stranger in a city he had never quite visited before all by himself. That was what he had done wrong and what had caused his situation. That was a fact and he could accept it as such. He was very aware of his troubling mistake. His mother had always told him not to trust strangers outside of the circus, that there were a lot of bad people around. Still, Kurt had chosen to trust this man and follow him. And now he could not even day why he had chosen this path to begin with. Maybe it had been the stranger’s charming smile or his outgoing nature, maybe it had been the sudden feeling of being welcomed as he was and not frowned upon or stared at in disgust. He had wanted to find new friends, outside of the circus. He had wanted to make it on his own and proof to himself, Werner, his family and the rest of the world, that there were people outside of the circus who would accept him as he was without question!

He had chosen to be an idiot and now he was in that very dire looking situation because of this oh so very stupid decision. Then again, _looking_ was not quite the right word because there was nothing to be seen for him. His eyes were blindfolded, his hands and feet - yes, even his tail, tied together. He was wrapped up like a birthday present. Why? Because he was stupid, because he was naive, because he was unhealthily oblivious.

At the very least he was out of the cage now.

Kurt had no idea how much time had passed ever since he left the circus in the middle of the night up until today. He could hardly even recall what had happened the night he followed this punk to this strange party. All he could remember was loud blaring aggressive sounding music, people in weird clothes that had rallied around him and tugged at him as if to make sure that he was real and not just a product of their drug induced state. And, to hs shame, he remembered how good he had felt because of the attention he had gotten from those strangers. He had felt special, he had felt maybe even loved as they had talked to him, giving him something to drink and to eat, fascinated by his appearance and curious about him. It was nothing new to him that people were fascinated by him but rarely in this context. Most people tended to look at him with a certain sense of disgust and all of them only in the context of a circus animal that should better be locked inside a cage. He was rarely ever seen as a human being.

Well, locked inside a cage he had been recently anyway.

After a while on this party, everything had started to become blurry, faces distorted, music strange and sounding like an LP that was on fire and slowly melting into a gramophone while still refusing to play on and on and on, his body wobbly and not longer underlying his own control but moving as a separate entity entirely and thus unable to carry him at all. By now, he knew of course that it had to be some kind of drug that had knocked him out quite thoroughly. If stupidity was a sin … Well, it would take him quite a long time to master it then, he would assume.

As he had woken up for the first time after this, frankly, quite frightening experience, there had been a metal cage around him. He had not been tied up, but his clothes had been taken away from him and his joy about the fact that he had not been tied up at least had soon vanished as he had learned the painful way that the cage had been electrified and hindering him to teleport away. The cage had been much too small for him and so he could have hardly sat on his knees without touching the cage that had been buzzing from electricity like a dangerous beast. For quite some time, he had listened to the sounds around him, trying to make out where he was or what was going on around him. _A transporter_ , that was the only thing he had been able to distinctly tell, he had been in a transporter and under its wheels, the road had been vibrating.

He had asked his kidnappers later, as they had first shown their faces, where he was, where they were going, and why they had taken him at all. He had gotten no answer, only laughter from his captors; a vile group of men in leather clothes and heavy boots. The guy who had brought him to the party had not been with them, but they had resembled him greatly. Not long after they had arrived at the first location, Kurt had found out what the intention of his captors had been from the start, and he could not shake off the feeling that all of this had been the plan ever since he had met this punk in Frankfurt. Now, he was put on display for curious onlookers like a wild exotic animal. He had people staring at him, people laughing at him and pointing fingers at him, people spewing insults at his face and the occasional electric shock when one of his tormentors would decide to poke with some metal rot at him of which he did not know how to call it.

They hadn't let him sleep at all since all of this had started, and even if not his tormentors had kept him from sleeping, then the cage had done the deed because everytime he had fallen into a light slumber, he had fallen against the metal and been shocked to the core. He had no idea for how long this had been going on already or how much money those monsters had made with his pain in selling him to the public as a demon they had caught. All he knew was that his prayers seemed to fall on deaf ears as if God couldn't hear him through the electricity of his cage, or worse: as if God had forgotten about him completely.Father Michael had always ensured him that God would look after him, that God would always watch his sheep, but what if he had been wrong? What if God had never been on his side in the first place? whatever it was, Kurt had soon learned that God would not come to his rescue just like this.

A part of him wondered if this was a test from God himself, as he had tested Hiob before and so many others too. However, if this was a test indeed, then how should he know if he had won or lost?

As he rested his head on the cold hard ground now, he was just glad that there was no cage around him anymore. Well, he could not say it for certain, of course, but they wouldn't have had a reason to tie him up like this if he would still be in his cage from which he couldn't escape. However, the question of why they had released him from the cage and the possibilities this question raised, were almost too horrible for him to even fathom. He had been able to sleep at last despite the pain shooting through his slender body and now that he was awake, he couldn't help but wonder if his family was out there looking for him or not. Then again, they were thinking he was on a journey, experiencing an adventure. They would not have any clue of what was happening to him. and even if they had … would they even try to get him back into safety at all? It was his own fault, after all.  

The sound of a heavy door slamming shut made him jump again and instinctively make himself smaller, curling into a ball close to a moist stone wall in his naked back. They had beaten him with belts and sticks whenever they had found joy in it. He smelled, he was hungry beyond belief, he was dirty with filth sticking to his fine blue fur and there was really nothing he could do about all of this. »Wake up, Comrade!« An all too familiar voice bellowed as stomping feet thundered closer and closer towards Kurt. A kick to his stomach made him wheeze in agony, but immediately his blindfold was ripped off his head, nearly ripping off his ears with it. »Don't even think about teleporting away, you little demon.« The man hissed at him. He was tall and brutish in built. He reminded him a little of the ringleader and Werner, but his eyes were cold like those of a dead fish and his skin red and blotched. His breath reeked of alcohol and his face was much too close for comfort.

Even if he would have wanted to teleport away, he wouldn't have been able to anyway. He was too weak, too exhausted. »It's time to get you to your new owner, but first a bath, we don't want you looking so filthy when you meet the big boss, right?«

Had he expected a proper hot bath? Surely not. Had he expected a small shower? Not at all. But he had surely not expected to be hosed with icy cold water in the dark and dingy cellar under some strange house like a dog either. It all happened too fast for his tired mind to be able to tag along and understand everything. Only as he was hit with the jet of water from the garden hose that his attacker held in his hand, he scrambled backward as best he could, trying to get away but to no avail. Soon there was water everywhere and his captor found enjoyment in directing the jet at his face to make him cough and wheeze desperately as he tried to get air into his lungs but would only breathe ice cold water.

It seemed to take forever until the water was turned off again. Kurt was lying in a large puddle, naked, trembling, freezing, his knees pulled to his chest his arms still tied together in front of his chest. Would he be stronger he would try to teleport away, but since he did not know where he even was, how should he know where to teleport to? He could not travel long distances so easily, the only exception had been the one time when he had teleported back home from Father Michael for the first time. But after this, he had never managed to put such distances behind him. What if he would try and end up in a wall?

He would die a horrible gruesome death if he would dare to try. Maybe that was the test he was facing. Maybe it was a test of his powers and abilities, but if it was, Kurt was not yet ready to risk his own life to prove his abilities to anyone. Coughing out his lungs, Kurt could only lie on the floor and hope that his tormentor would finally leave him, but that seemed not to be the case as the man instead stepped closer towards him. He expected another kick and braced himself in fear of it, instead, the man squatted down next to Kurt and his smell only grew stronger and bit in his nose. It was the strong smell of sweat, beer, various foods and … underwear that needed a wash. »Look at you now, little blue Demon. Not so high and mighty now, are we? In the end, all of you freaks are nothing more but pathetic insects.« The man began, his voice low and quieter than Kurt would have liked it. It was one thing to be shouted at and yet another story entirely to hear a voice so menacingly low and dark or to look into eyes filled with such mirth at his pain. For a moment, the man’s dark eyes met Kurt's own eyes, but the second he saw them shift and focus on something else on Kurt's body, he felt how his heart dropped into his non-existent pants.

He could not defend himself, he could not hinder the man, he could not wrestle away the hand, as the man suddenly grabbed the silver cross that was lying on his blue skin. Their skin touched, no longer than a second or two perhaps, but to Kurt, it felt like an eternity. The man's fingers were hot against his cold skin, but Kurt only felt his own skin crawl under the touch while the man was looking at the silver cross, appearing deeply in thought. Maybe he was not such a bad man after all, was the first thing shooting through his mind, but then with a painful, quick tuck, Kurt heard how the silver necklace broke apart in his neck, ripping open his skin, as his captor ripped off the necklace and the cross with it.

»I don't think you’ll have any use of this now, Demon, but I can make a bit money with it I guess. I wonder what the pawnshop will give me for this worthless piece of tin.« It was the first time since all of this had started an eternity ago, that Kurt found his voice back again.

»No! Give it back, please! Give it back!« It was the necklace Father Michael had given to him, it was the only possession he owned that was not a hand me down but his own, it was his only piece of jewelry, his only constant reminder of his connection to God, his vessel! He could not lose it! His reaction only tempted the man in front of him to dangle the cross right in front of his nose, tauntingly, a wicked smile playing on his lips before he snatched the necklace away again and reveled in the look of pure distress and desperation on Kurt's face.

»See you later, little Monster.« The man sneered as he rose again and left Kurt behind, seemingly done with playing around with a possible dangerous mutant. The metal door fell shut again soon after and Kurt was alone in the darkness all by himself yet again. Even if he would be able to teleport, even if he would be strong enough, naked, with his hands and feet tied together, he would be unable to get very far, let alone find out where he really was. The only thing he could do was to wait and hope that everything would turn out better again.

It didn't.

His new _owner_ was a man of questionable character with a greasy looking blond mustache and colorful clothes. Wouldn't Kurt know any better he would have almost mistaken him for yet another circus ringleader. He wasn't, though, but at least he had the attitude of one and that was only one more reason for him not to know what to make of this situation. He had always known that he had been lucky that his circus had been so good to him and that he could have gotten it much worse, however, the feeling of gratitude for his family and upbringing had never truly settled in - until now. Kurt only got a glimpse of his the man with the mustache as he was jolted awake by the door slamming shut and voices talking loudly - his captor and, as he then realized, the man who would pay good money for him. He could see how they exchanged money right in front of him, then photos were taken of him as he laid there like a slain beast. Kurt would have much rather been swallowed whole by the ground in shame. Yet, there was no escape for him. He had to endure every little jab at his person, every remark, every strange look he got before everything turned for the worse yet again.

The last thing he saw before his world turned black again, was his captor as he approached him with a white cloth and pressed it onto his mouth and nose.

He was shaken awake later - literally shaken awake. His head was knocking against something with every move of the world around him. He was dizzy and unable to say where he was or why he felt like he was floating, unable to feel the ground beneath him anymore. It didn't take him long to notice that he wasn't tied up anymore, but around him, the world was pitch black. Another heavy bump made his forehead slam into something hard. A box. He was inside of a box - and, worse even, he was being carried around in said box. The realization struck him harder than he would have anticipated it, as fear and panic started to set in almost immediately. His heart was racing in his chest, thumping so hard against his ribcage that he was sure it would either break his ribs or stop beating altogether. He found his claws digging into the hard surface in front of his face in a desperate attempt to free himself. Wood. Hardwood like that of a coffin. There was another hard bump and Kurt was slammed against the insides of the wooden box yet again, this time with his left shoulder, as if on purpose.

It was only in this moment that he realized that he had been redressed in his own clothes. Though he could not see it, he could recognize them by touch alone. His clothes, his beloved red coat, gave him a little comfort back, a little hope maybe even. His left hand shot to his neck, but he was not even surprised that he did not find his necklace. Surely his captor had already sold it. He was mourning the loss of this relict, this artifact of God’s divine love that Father Michael had given to him. Ever since he had gotten it, he had looked upon it as guidance and inspiration to change his ways and become the person God wanted him to be. A good person, a person who would not misjudge others, who would not hurt others, who would not stray from the path of kindness and forgiveness.

He wanted to start praying, trying to ignore the bumps that were throwing him from side to side as he was almost convinced that whoever carried the box was doing this on purpose. He could not see where he was, he did not know where he was. Teleporting now would be dangerous, yet, it was worth a shot. He tried to focus, tried to concentrate. He tried to imagine the circus, the clearing where they had last settled. He did not know if they had moved already or if they stayed, hoping Kurt would find them. They would travel south from now on, so, if he would be able to find the clearing, he would be able to find them sooner or later.

As the image started to take shape, he felt the familiar sensation of his body dematerializing and then- a shock slammed him screaming with his back against the wood and for a moment his world was just pain, white noise, and lightning behind his closed eyelids. He couldn't escape. The realization was as disheartening as it was painful. He could do nothing but pray now and even though praying was usually the comfort he needed in dire situations, this time, he felt more scared than soothed by the words that were escaping his cut lips. »Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven.« The Lord’s prayer had always given him courage and strength, but his own words sounded hollow now and the familiar feeling of relaxation and calm refused to come. As yet another hard bump made his skull collide with the solid wood, his breath hitched in his throat. »Give us today our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses. As we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For Thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, forever, Amen.«  

It felt like an eternity that he spent inside the box, praying silently to the Holy Mother and her son Jesus Christ, repeating the Lord’s prayer over and over again, before his ears started to pick up on sounds around him again. The sounds were muffled at first, but as they seemed to get closer, the sounds became more distinct and he started to make out laughing and cheering - and then a loud, almost familiar voice echoing too loudly, painfully loud, all around him outside of his wooden prison. Something in the way he and his box were carried changed, but he was unable to say what was going on. Then, after a moment, it dawned on him. It almost felt as if the box was on wheels now - like the boxes the old magician always used for his trick that involved cutting his assistant in half, a gorgeous young girl named Claudia. Kurt had always wanted to be the one participating, but the magician, Hans, had always said that it wouldn't work with him. As a child, Kurt had not understood what he meant, now he knew that it would be quite hard to find someone who could play the lower part of his body as would be necessary for the trick to work. As a child, he had really believed that Hans was cutting his assistant in half and had held his breath every time he would see the trick unfold.  

» _Ladies and Gentleman, the only one who could rival with an angel is the devil himself!_ « The voice was now so loud that it almost hurt his ears as filled his head as if he was right next to the vibrating speakers. His little journey stopped finally and abruptly. There was no movement anymore, no being bumped around or thrown carelessly from side to side any longer. Was this a show? Another circus maybe? Was he being presented to another audience to belittle him? What did the man mean with rivaling an angel? Kurt soon realized that he had no time to figure it out himself as the voice of the presenter continued. » _I present to you the astonishing, the fantastic Nightcrawler!_ « As the man yelled at the now screaming crowd over the blaring music that was playing in the background, his box was all but thrown forward as if to make it stand upright, before the front opened up and he fell face first onto dirty wooden floorboards in the process.

Kurt had barely enough time to understand what just happened or to understand that he was free as he heard a metal gate being slammed shut somewhere behind him. He had no eyes or ears for the cage he was in now, all he could see was the blur of colors and faces. People in weird, dark leather clothes, holding onto beer bottles and cups and yelling and screaming loudly in their frenzy like the crowds in the Colosseum of Ancient Rome, perhaps.

And then he saw him.

First, he had not realized that he was not alone in this cage that was reaching from the ground to the ceiling with no way out, no way to escape, but then he saw a flash of white in his peripheral vision and jolted away immediately, trying to scramble to his feet. He was barely fast enough.

The man with whom he was locked inside this cage was clad in a studded black leather jacket and pants of similar design, his sweaty blond curls were clinging to his forehead and in the moment their eyes first met, Kurt could not help but feel reminded of the group of fascists that attacked him years ago, a thought the prompted him to get away and bring as much distance between him and the other man as possible, as panic struck him to the core. His huge wings he started to take in only after the first blink. Had they not been spoiled with dirt and blood, they would have shone pure white and beautiful.

Kurt, however, had no time to marvel at the sight as the angel suddenly made a leap on him and Kurt, out of reflex teleported away, trying to get out, but ultimately ended up shocked by high voltage one more time, throwing him helplessly back on the ground like a ragdoll. The taunts of the man who had the microphone were muffled in his ears as they were ringing so loudly he could barely hear his own thoughts, lying on the ground for a second before he regained his senses enough to grasp what was happening.

As the angel attacked him once more, Kurt barely managed to escape in time. As confusing the situation was into which he had been thrust just like this, as quickly his brain started to catch up with the situation and all its terrifying implications. This was a fight between him and an angel and the people that were watching were paying good money to see them hurt one another. A fight to the death, perhaps even and up until now, the angel seemed to have won his fights of the night. How long was he a captive of those people already? Was he a prisoner just like Kurt at all? Or was he doing this out of his own volition?

The lights coming from all around were almost blinding and a thin layer of smoke from cigarettes and cigars was lingering in the air, making it stuffy and almost impossible to breathe properly. It smelled like sweat and blood and various perfumes mixed with beer. The cocktail of smells and noises made his head dizzy as he landed on one of the steel beams a few meters over the ground. Of course, the angel had no problem to follow him up and around the cage, floating through the air effortlessly and gracefully, but with the same ferocity and determination as a bird of prey would follow it's prey.

Kurt couldn't help but feel like a little mouse running away from a hawk.

As the angel landed on the steel beam in front of him, Kurt dropped down and swung on his tail around before teleporting in mid-air even higher and landed like a cat on another beam. It was a small skirmish until Kurt managed to confuse his opponent enough to lose track of him, as it seemed.

»Fight!« The angel suddenly yelled at him from the ground after Kurt had managed to get up as high as he could. He was still exhausted, still weak, but this was about survival and there was no time for thinking now, no time for being whiny. He could be whiny as soon as he was back home with his mother again. He would bury his face in her shoulder and cry about what had happened to him, about the people who had spit on him or thrown insults at his face, about the shame he had felt as he had been paraded around naked like a beast, about the beatings and the photos and the shocks. And his mother would scold him, but everything would be better afterward. »Fight, or they’ll kill us both!«

It was only then that Kurt's eyes fell upon the armed guards that stood around the metal fence of the cage, machine guns in their massive arms, ready to shoot at the two mutants inside of the cage as soon as needed to show them where their place was. Kurt's eyes fell on the other mutant again. He did not seem to be overly scared and the blood clinging to his feathers told the tale of a man who was not used to lose a fight against another mutant or anyone as a matter of fact. Still, the way his blue eyes were piercing into his very soul told Kurt about honest concern. How could he have ever questioned if the other mutant was a willing participant? Sure, he was prancing around like a bull, confident and proud, but who would fight in such a cage willingly without being forced?

He felt horribly conflicted as he looked down at the angel, baring his sharp teeth out of instinct. Sure, he had not much experience when it came to fighting, but he was a skilled acrobat and he could use this to his advantage against the angel. The thing was just that he did not wish to hurt this majestic creature. How could he ever hurt an angel? It was against everything he believed in! He couldn't possibly fight the angel like this, could not risk hurting him!

However, as he felt sweat dripping down his forehead, he knew that he had no other choice than to fight and as he did, and as the smell of burned feathers filled his nose just a moment later, he felt as if his whole world was crumbling down. The sight of the burned wing made his stomach twist and him back off in horror for his own actions and fear of the other mutant’s wrath. »I’m sorry!« He immediately sputtered the words without thinking about them even for a second as he was hastily moving away from the angry looking angel, making himself small out of instinct. »I'm sorry!« But no matter how much he would say that he was sorry or how much he would try to repent for his sins, this was a sin he could never earn forgiveness for. This was something not even God would forgive and it was yet another thing that haunted Kurt Wagner from this day onward.

The next time he met Angel, the eyes of the winged mutant were full of hatred towards him and this time, despite the fact that he felt agony in doing so, Kurt fought with ferocity against Angel. Despite the fact that his once so beautiful white wings were now sharp and deadly metal, the Angel had not lost any of his grace or beauty in Kurt’s eyes and he wondered if they could have been friends in a different life, under different circumstances, perhaps. But, he never got the chance to explore this thought any further because Angel died a horrible death as the jet crashed into the ground.

And Kurt was left with guilt weighing heavily on his soul once again.

 

**-End of Chapter 8-**


	9. Chapter 9

**1985 - Xavier’s School for gifted youngsters, New York**

»I didn't want him.« A female voice ripped Peter from his sleep. He had sunken deep into the cozy thick leather of the chair that stood beside Kurt’s bed and only as he rubbed over his face and sat up straight again, he noticed the woolen blanket that someone had laid over him. Ororo or Jean, probably. Maybe Jubilee, she was caring like this. It was not entirely dark inside the room, a bit of sunlight shone through the window in his back. The sun was about to rise and start this new day. It was much too early, four or maybe five in the morning. Despite the woman inside the room, his first glance was directed at Kurt’s face. He was used to having his hope crushed by now every time he would wake up or come back from a bathroom break to see that Kurt was still sleeping. Sleeping, of course, was the nicer word to describe his condition. Coma was the more accurate description.

Somehow Peter was not even surprised to find Raven Darkholme inside the room, leaning against the wall close to the door that was leading outside and into the hallway, as if she wanted to be able to escape quickly. He could not describe the look on her face because Raven was a woman who chose to show emotions only on rare occasions. Her eyes were directed at Kurt, but her face was unreadable, expressionless. Did she know that he knew?

He cleared his throat and wanted to ask her what she meant, but Raven continued before he was able to. »I didn't want him.« She repeated. »But somehow I'm still a little proud of how he turned out.«

Finally, it struck him like one of Ororo’s lightning bolts what she was trying to say, what she meant, and, more importantly, that she did not feel guilty for giving him away. At least, if she did feel guilty, her face was unable or unwilling to portray this feeling. He did not really want to ask her the details, he felt that it wasn't his place to do so, yet he couldn't stop himself from asking her anyway. »Why did you give him away anyway?«

His question seemed to prompt her to avert her eyes from Kurt to meet his. Now her face looked almost condescending. »Are you really asking this question?« She replied and then scoffed before he could answer while he could already feel anger starting to boil deep down inside his guts. »Look at him.« Her left hand made a discarding gesture towards her son. »I couldn't possibly keep a child that looked like this. I had plans, you know? I was young! I had my whole life ahead of me and I had so much I wanted to do and see. He was an inconvenience. Not because I did not want a baby. I could have aborted him if that would have been the reason behind my decision. I would have kept him, had his mutation not been that apparent. For days I hoped he would show signs of being able to shapeshift, but as he didn't, I had no other choice than getting rid of him.«

»You had no other choice?« Peter breathed. He felt as though Raven had punched him in the stomach with all her power. She was strong enough to knock the air out of anyone's lungs for sure. »You could have kept him!«

»I didn't want to keep him. I didn't want to be reminded of his father or my own flaws every day when looking at this _thing_. He was ugly, he was an abomination and how should I have been able to do the things I wanted to do, live the way I wanted to live with him as baggage? You see, I have been many women in my time, some rich, some poor. Rich, I find, is preferable. I married an Austrian count after I left everything behind me that concerned Charles and his _X-Men_. He was not exactly handsome, but his money made up for that. We led a life of luxury, that is until I gave birth to Kurt. Needless to say, neither my husband nor the neighbors were pleased and my secret was revealed. I had to start over.«

He wanted to say that it was the most shocking thing he had ever heard, but the sad truth was that this world was a sick place and no, it was not the worst he could imagine. Would Kurt not be his boyfriend, maybe he could even try to understand her. »And just because he was inconvenient, you gave him to a circus?«

»I didn't.« This time it was impossible to tell if the bit of red creeping into her cheeks came from the rising sun outside, shame or possibly even anger. »I threw him in a river.« He took it all back, this _was_ the worst and most shocking thing he had ever heard and he felt his breath catch in his throat. She couldn't be serious. Surely she was just making up some story to be seen as the big baddy once again. She was prone to shoving away those she loved. No one would be as cruel as to throw a baby into a river!

»But … how…« He did not even get as far as to really articulate his question - mainly because he did not know what he wanted to ask. His thoughts felt like they had been thrown into a blender and were now mixed into an undefinable mush.

»I believe his father saved him. I can't think of any other explanation than this. It would be exactly what he would do. As little as he would want a child, he would never let his precious mutant genes go to waste.«

»His father…?«

»Azazel.« The terrorist. This was the first thing his brain supplied to him. He had been a toddler back in the day, only around two years old, of course, but he had heard stories of those mutant terrorists back in the early sixties, led by a mutant named Azazel, who had the looks of the devil himself. Red skin, a tail, pointed ears. Yes, now that he knew, the resemblance to Kurt was uncanny and yet none the less shocking. »I would not put it past him that he has saved his own child to give him to a circus.«

Peter ruffled through his hair, dragging his nails along his scalp and nearly scratching his skin as he tried to make sense of all of this. She was saying these things so bluntly, so emotionless, so uncaring, really. She was for sure not the hero that the kids in school saw her as and it would crush Ororo's heart to hear something like this out of her hero’s mouth. And Kurt? He could never know. He could never learn the truth about his parents.

As he drove his fingers down his face, he made a decision and his eyes were hard and unflinching as he looked at _Mystique_ again. »You will not tell him.« He said, his voice stern and not taking no for an answer. He would not let her destroy Kurt or break his heart like this. »He does not deserve this. He doesn't need to know.«

»But you are aware that he will continue to try and find out about where he came from.«

»Yes, I know. But he hasn't learned the truth until now and he won't in the future. Having no parents is still better than the truth.« But as the machine next to Kurt's bed suddenly started to sound off the alarm, everything else, their whole conversations and the gruesome truth he had learned, was forgotten.

※※※※※※※

**1983 - Xavier’s School for gifted youngsters, New York**

Peter Maximoff was a character Kurt had only barely had contact with since everything had started. With _everything_ , he was referring to the whole end-of-the-world-thing, of course. He had been new to the US, as a mutant named Apocalypse had decided to take over the world and destroy humankind and he, Kurt Wagner, _the incredible Nightcrawler_ , had been thrust into the situation on a whim and without his wish in the first place. All he had desired was to lick his wounds, learn a little about American culture and then, hopefully, find a way back home to the circus after everything that had happened in the weeks leading up to his arrival in Xavier’s School for gifted youngsters in Salem, New York.

Now, however, Peter Maximoff, who was a total of six years older than him, was his new roommate for the time being. Peter was loud, cocky, sometimes a little arrogant and overconfident. Even with his right leg badly broken, he was able to play pranks on others, although not as fast as he usually was. Their friendship had not been off to a good start from the get go. They couldn't have been more different even if they had tried to, and that Peter liked to taunt him every time Kurt would kneel beside his bed to pray, did not exactly help.

Most students in this school had their own room, so it was only one more reason to question the Professor’s intent as he had condemned Kurt to this god awful fate. What had he done wrong, Kurt asked himself as he stared at the ceiling of his room. He had saved the Professor, after all! He had exhausted himself so much, that he was still forced to stay in bed most of the time because he was still collapsing every other step he took. It was not just the fight against Angel, the colossal teleportation he had achieved with all of his new friends, but also still the aftermath of the horrors he had survived before all of that. It was ridiculous. What was even more ridiculous was the paper plane that hit him in the cheek, _again_.

»Oh my God would you stop that already?« Kurt moaned and was tempted to pull his blanket over his head. He would have done so, wouldn't it be so hot inside their room because Peter refused to let him open a window. He did not know why that was, but by now he assumed that this was just another way for Peter to annoy him as much as possible. Apparently, annoying people was Peter’s mission in life.

»Are you allowed to say that? I mean, isn't this heresy or something?« He would have punched him, would he not be a peaceful guy. Well, at least he tried to stay peaceful, but Peter liked to test his patience. That was at least what Jean said to him once as Kurt had whined about his roommate to her. It was not just the fact that Peter liked to tease him every moment of the day, but also the state of their room. It was neatly cut in two sides, with Kurt’s being the more orderly side while Peter’s side of the room was pure chaos and destruction.

Somehow Peter managed to get under his skin very easily with his comments and his general flippant attitude and today, Kurt felt even antsier than usually. »What is your problem?« He sighed as he dropped his book on the mattress beside him and turned his face to look at Peter.

»I’m bored.« The other boy was sitting on his bed with his back resting against the wall that was already covered in various movie and band posters. His hair was as messy as if he had just woken up but they both knew that Peter had already been out of their room to do all kinds of stupid shit. Every time he would come back, he would bring something new into their room, like a bird preparing a nest.

»Read a book!«

That seemed to have caught his attention because now he looked intrigued as he stared at Kurt and the thick book in his hands. »What are you reading?«

» _To Kill a Mockingbird_. It's homework from the Professor - to help me with my English.«

»Your English is good, though. ‘Heard a lot worse before, my dear German friend.« Kurt rolled his eyes at the comment. His English wasn't the worse, yes, but he had rarely used it in the past and his accent was incredibly thick. So thick indeed, that most students would look at him in confusion when he was talking in class every time he was allowed to go. »Do you speak many languages? I can imagine that you came into contact with a lot of different languages in your life, right? Having grown up in a circus and all.«

»A few.« Kurt sighed. Of course, learning languages was vital in his business and he had soaked them up like a sponge from early on.

»Like what?«

»Well…« Already he felt uneasy to tell him because he already knew what would follow. »I speak … Italian, English, German, Spanish … and French.« And of course, Peter's eyes grew huge as he suddenly sat up straight on his bed.

»Say something in French!« Of course. That was the reaction he would always get here in America and only God knew why. Kurt had no idea what this obsession with speaking French was about and every time he would ask Jean or Jubilee, they would only smirk at him and refuse to tell him. They could be quite mean when they desired to tease him.

»No.« He groaned and scrunched up his nose before he grabbed his book again. »I'm reading my book.« Although he was aware that he would not be able to as long as Peter was bored and the sigh that escaped the older mutant only proved that assumption. »Would it help if I would read to you?« It would help him with his English at least.

»In French?« Peter grinned as he wiggled his eyebrows. Kurt felt tempted to throw his book at him.

»It was a yes or no question.«

»Yes, yes, yes. Geez, it's cool man.« Peter then laughed. Still, Kurt looked at him a moment longer to get his point across, before he opened his book again and started to read aloud. As soon as the first words slipped from his tongue Peter grew uncharacteristically silent and Kurt almost thought he had fallen asleep because that was the level of impoliteness Peter was known for. That was until, suddenly and so fast that he could do nothing about it at all, Kurt's bed dipped under a bit of additional weight to his left. Even with his right leg stuck in a cast from hip to ankle, Peter was still pretty fast. Naturally, Kurt stopped reading for a moment, if only to throw a small questioning glance at Peter, who had made himself pretty comfortable beside him on the bed and did not appear as if he was about to leave the spot he had chosen. He could just as well continue, he assumed. And so, with one last annoyed grunt, Kurt continued to read until Peter fell asleep beside him.

»I'm not very good with knives.« Kurt huffed as he furrowed his brows in honest concentration, his eyes narrowed into yellow slits, focusing on his task.

»Yes, I can see that. You are killing it.« Kurt wanted to be affronted by Peter’s choice of words, but he was too focused on his current task, plus, yes, he had to admit, the poor sandwich had seen better days. With a sigh, he lowered the knife with which he had tried to spread out the mayonnaise and looked at his new found friend in exhaustion.

»I have never been good with cutlery.« He finally admitted his defeat, but Peter only smiled at him in this damned sheepish way that made the girls around swoon every time they would see it. Well, he had to admit, it was a damn good looking smile. Then again, Peter was a damn good looking dude. He was funny too, a good friend even, now that they had put their first animosities to rest.

»Come on, I’ll show you. We can't have you starve because the cutlery is refusing to do its job.« He teased and Kurt already held out the knife so that Peter would take it. That was what his mother would have done in a situation such as this. Peter however gently shook his head and before Kurt knew it, the older student had taken position behind him and grabbed the hand that was still holding the knife from behind. Rarely anyone would touch his hands. Most found them ugly and did not like to touch them in any way. Peter, however, did not seem at all thrown off by his appearance. »Look« Peter suddenly huffed and his hot breath brushed Kurt's left ear. He suppressed the shiver that was running down his spine as best he could. He did not want the situation to be even more awkward than it already was. He did not want to appear _weird_. Peter was guiding his hand and with his help, it took no time at all until Kurt could marvel at the sight of his perfect tuna sandwich.

Still, as Peter, after a moment, let go of his hand and stepped back again to pat his shoulder in silent approval, Kurt felt strangely empty.

Even though they had their own rooms now that Peter's leg was healed and that Kurt was back on track too, they stuck together like gum, except for the hours they would spend in different classes. Peter had decided that he would finish his education after he had dropped out of High School early and Kurt was pretty proud of his friend because of it. It took a lot of courage, he thought. It was not easy being the oldest in the classroom by a long shot because having dropped out of school before. For him, however, all of this was entirely new. He had never seen a school from the inside. It was not so easy for him to fit in or sit still in class. He was fidgety and restless, but his friends always did their best to get him to focus anyway. On his first proper day in school, he had felt embarrassed as the Professor had asked him what book he had gone through in school the last time he went there. He hadn't wanted to tell the entire class that he had never been to school, but the Professor had understood and he hadn't pressed on. Instead, Kurt was getting extra lessons. He was not dumb either, he was just missing basic stuff and everyone around him wanted to make sure that he would catch up as quickly as possible.

Peter was much better in catching up, though.

»I don't like you.« Kurt huffed as he glanced at the speedster in annoyance over the edge of his math book. Peter was already done with his homework and laughed at the gloomy look Kurt gave him.

»Everyone knows you love me.« He replied with this damned sheepish grin and Jean, who sat beside him, couldn't help but roll her eyes. Scott was lying stretched out on the grass, his algebra book on his face. That seemed to be his approach to the topic and Kurt couldn't really blame him. Then again, he doubted the efficiency of Scott's method and approach to learning, after all, it had been Scott who had told him to just put the book he needed to understand under his pillow and sleep on it. It had not worked. Of course.

It was a wonderful sunny late October afternoon. It was just warm enough to stay outside to finish their homework and there was hardly a cloud in the sky to threaten their study session. On days like this, he missed the circus. Despite his efforts of getting back in touch with his family, he hadn't been able to.

»No, I'm pretty sure I don't.« Kurt sighed and closed his book with a frustrated groan. »It's not fair that you are so fast in understanding these things!«

»Amen!« Ororo couldn't help but chuckle at Jubilee’s reply and Kurt felt his cheeks turn a shade darker. He felt as if it was always him who complained about such basic things like math and he wondered what his friends might think about him because of his whining. He had lived in a whole different world than they his entire life and that not just because of the cultural differences. He was still slow to understand everything that was going on. American people were so very much informal all the time and they would always give him weird looks if they would ask him how he was and he would give them a detailed answer. Jubilee had told him that he was not supposed to tell them how he was. He couldn't quite get behind why they would ask him then.

But to them, all of this came naturally. Even school.

In the blink of an eye, Peter had stolen the book from his hand and opened it on the page Kurt had put his bookmark in. Some kids would fold the corner of the site they were at, but he tried to keep his books as pristine as possible. Books were valuable goods and they should be treated as such. »Fractional Arithmetic.« Peter read and Kurt pouted as he looked at him over the edge of the book out of these big brown eyes. »You, my friend, are doomed. Well, that is unless you would have a friend who is exceptionally good in this particular field of mathematic and also a very good teacher.«

»Can you help me or not?« Kurt sighed and as Peter made an effort out of acting as if he needed to think about it forever, it was Scott who punched him in the leg without even removing the book from his face.

»Help the elf, or I’ll grill you.«

Getting private lessons by _Professor Quicksilver_ was not the most pleasant experience one could have during high school, that much was as certain as the leaves turning red and orange during autumn. Peter was impatient and often enough much too quick with his explanations and Kurt had a hard time keeping up with him, not just because of the topic but the language barrier was an issue too. Still, despite the times Kurt was forced to hiss at his tutor for appearing out of nowhere behind him and leaning much too close for comfort over his shoulder to look at what he was writing, the result as a B+ in Kurt’s math test a few days later. Needless to say that Prof. McCoy had been ecstatic with the result and his classmates astonished.

Still, despite Peter’s help, Kurt had a hard time fitting into the school life at the campus and so he caught himself trying to find ways to make himself look more normal each day. Much to the displeasure of his friends - especially his new best friend.

»What is this? A new watch?« Peter was, like most of the times, too fast to be stopped as he grabbed the device from Kurt's left hand to examine it. As Kurt tried to get it back, Peter was already on the other end of his room.

»Give it back, Peter!« He demanded as he teleported after him, to no avail. It was just their usual cat and mouse game when Peter would steal something from him and refused to give it back to Kurt. He had grown up with older siblings, he was used to this kind of game. However, it was a titbit more annoying when the other person was faster than lightning.

»I've seen on of  those before!« Peter then suddenly exclaimed as he stopped and made Kurt almost bump into him. »Isn't  this one of Professor McCoy’s image inducers?«

Kurt could feel how his neck turned hot and his cheeks and ears purple in embarrassment. He did not even quite know why he felt embarrassed all of the sudden and yet, instead of acknowledging this feeling and trying to understand it, he rather jumped into defense mode. »So what?« He grunted as he used the moment of surprise and snatched the image inducer out of Peter’s hand to close it around his left wrist as quickly as possible.

He would have expected Peter to make a stupid comment about him wanting such a device, but instead, Peter had grown quite silent for a moment and eyed him with something that almost looked like concern … maybe even pity. »Why would you want something like this? You look so cool, Elf!« It finally came over the silver haired man’s lips.

But Kurt was still on the defense as he clutched his wrist with the device and stepped backward. »Oh, come on, don't look at me like this! You might not care if you don't fit in, but I do! I'm tired of being looked at as a freak. Professor McCoy understands this and there is nothing wrong about it. So, if you would excuse me now, I have classes to attend.« He did not know why he fled his own dorm room like this as he _bamfed_ (as Jubilee called his teleportation) out of the room and as far away as possible so that Peter would not come after him immediately. Then again, as he rematerialized in the boys' bathroom on the ground floor of the mansion, he really doubted that Peter would follow him after he had made such a fuss just now. Kurt did not really know why he sometimes felt so very agitated in Peter’s company, but it started to get worse and every time he felt as if Peter was criticizing him, he felt his skin crawl and his blood boil.

With a sigh, he stared in the mirror in front of him and listened for a moment to the sounds all around. Students were already running through the hallways and over old wooden floorboards. It was a miracle that the mansion had been rebuilt this fast and that just by the combined powers of a few mutants. Still, to Kurt, it was nice to see that something that had been so utterly destroyed could be rebuilt too and come back even stronger, maybe. His eyes rested upon his own blue face and he shortly shook his head in disappointment. »That was not nice, you know?« He sighed to himself and his reflection looked a little ashamed, maybe. »You should go back and apologize. Peter is your friend. You are lucky that you have a friend like him. He does not deserve to be treated like this.« His reflection stayed silent, but Kurt raised a finger at the boy in the mirror. »You are going to apologize, Kurt Wagner.« Did he imagine things or did he sound a lot like his own mother?

Anyway, he needed to get going now if he did not want to be late to class. Before he switched on the device on his wrist, though, he hesitated. What would the others think of him, if he would suddenly not look like himself anymore? Well, they would be pleased, he assumed. He was distracting them. So, with a short sharp nod at himself in the mirror, he switched on the device and his reflection was gone all of the sudden. Though he had tested it before with the Professor in his laboratory, he had never seen his own reflection before. Professor McCoy had offered him a mirror, but somehow, Kurt had not been brave enough to look at himself. Now he had no other choice.

The boy in the mirror looked familiar. The face was still the same, just not blue, but pale - very pale. His yellow eyes were brown and strange looking to him. His fangs were gone, but he still felt them, like his tail and his claws. It was just an illusion, he knew this and yet it looked convincing. Out of two clawed fingers had grown four normal ones - without claws - but his fingers looked as if he was making the Vulcan salute constantly. Well, there were worse things, he supposed - like having only two fingers, for example.

He did not look too bad, he assumed, and yet, as he left the bathroom and stepped out into the hallway, his skin felt itchy and he felt even more self-conscious than he ever had.

Kurt had never been too fond of thunderstorms. He assumed that his life in the circus was to blame because of the dangers that had come with the arrival of such a storm when living under the open sky. He remembered how he had liked to sneak into his brother's caravan during such nights only to cuddle up at him with wet feet after running through the rain and the mud. Now he lied wide awake in this large mansion and all around him were people in their rooms, sleeping peacefully in their comfortable beds.

To Kurt, all this comfort was still new and had the feeling of luxury. He was not used to having a bed like this. He was not used to having sturdy walls around him that held off the wind. He was not used to the feeling of having people all around him, just on the other side of the wall. He was not even used to having a closet like he had here - or to have so many clothes. He had kept his circus suit, but, of course, he couldn't wear it here. Instead, Jubilee had taken him shopping quite a few times already and now his closet was almost bursting with new clothes. Though he did not have money of his own and no parents to pay the school or his allowance, the Professor had taken it upon himself to get Kurt accommodated in the US. It was almost as if the Professor already knew that Kurt would stay and never go back to Germany. Many of his friends seemed to think that this was simply a fact.

Kurt, however, missed his home and on this night, during this storm, it was especially bad.

As the next bolt of lightning flashed seemingly right in front of his window and drowned his room in bright daylight, Kurt had enough and jumped out of his bed. Only when he was in the hallway, his pillow clutched in his arms, he recognized the fact that he did not even know where he was going. There was no Stefan to cuddle up to here. No mother who would maybe pat his head to comfort him and no Amanda who would find encouraging words for him. The hallway was silent and dark, scary, almost with every flash of lightning coming through the large window at the end, casting unnatural looking shadows all over the walls.

Still, he decided to wander down the hallway if only to collect his thoughts and almost tripped over the carpet that was lying on the wooden floor. It was ridiculous. And yet, he stopped in front of Peter’s door and stared at the wood as if the door could tell him what to do. It did not. Of course not. But he could see light coming through the crack between the floor and the door. Peter was still awake. It did not really surprise him that much. He had lived with Peter for a few weeks, after all. _You still need to apologize to him_ , his consciousness helpfully reminded him. Still, he hesitated a moment. The day had not been all that easy and he had avoided Peter since the morning and their little discussion about this stupid device that Kurt had left in his room on his nightstand.

Jean and the others had said nothing about his changed appearance as if by acknowledging it, they would somehow insult him. He had wanted them to acknowledge it and maybe even say something about this new look of him, yet they refused to do so and Kurt was still none the wiser if his friends liked the new Kurt or if they did not. Maybe it was not even important if _they_ liked the new Kurt. And yet … Yet he felt strange if they wouldn't like this new form. He wanted them to like it. He wanted Peter to like it. But the look Peter had given him this morning and later during the day as they had walked past each other in the hallway between classes, did not leave Kurt’s mind.

He straightened his back and knocked before he would waste hours like this, standing in the middle of the nightly hallway like a complete and utter fool - not that this would be anything new, really.

»Door is open!« He was not even surprised that Peter was indeed wide awake. Surely he was playing video games again. He had once told him that he did have troubles sleeping because his mind would never slow down enough. However, as they had shared a room, there had been no indication that this was true at all. Quite the contrary, actually.

With a silent sigh, Kurt opened the door and grabbed his pillow closer, holding it to his chest like a shield against all evil and praying to God that Peter would let him talk and not throw him out immediately, as he would have any right to after Kurt's rude behavior. At first, Peter did not even acknowledge his presence. He sat with his back to the door on the floor and was punching down the buttons of his NES. His back was hunched in a way that would not bother Kurt, but hurt normal human beings - as Jean had once told him. He was in his Pajamas … Well, he was not wearing his street clothes. As far as Kurt was aware, Peter did not possess Pajamas and would usually sleep in his boxer shorts and a t-shirt.

Only as Kurt closed the door behind him, Peter threw a glance over his shoulder. He did not appear mad, but it was always hard to tell with the trickster. He just patted the ground beside him, before turning back to the TV. »Come on, sit down, you make me nervous.«

But Kurt did not leave his position near the door. »I’m just here to apologize.«

»For what?« A small curse escaped Peter's lips as his little 8-bit character died on screen.

»For my rude behavior this morning.«

Peter shrugged it off and waved his hand dismissively, but did not turn around to face him still. »Shrug it.« He mumbled at his TV. Kurt was at a loss. He did not know if Peter really did not care for his outburst or his apology or if he just tried to act this way.

»Okay« Kurt murmured and fidgeted on the spot before turning slightly towards the door again. »Well … I guess, _Gute Nacht_ , then … _Bis morgen_.«

»I take it, the day has not been as you hoped it would be?« Peter was in front of him in the blink of an eye, blocking his way to the door and before Kurt knew it, Peter had ripped his pillow away, gave him a small nudge on the head with the same pillow and threw it on the bed. »Come on, stay, Blueberry. I’m sure you have a lot to tell me about your day and it's been awhile since our last pajama party.« Suddenly he looked uncomfortable as he scratched his neck and smiled sheepishly at him. »I guess … I should apologize to you too. I acted like a total asshole. I avoided you the entire day just because I was angry that you did not listen to me, Kurt.«

Kurt felt the toothy grin on his own face before he could register that Peter’s confession had made him smile. They were friends, yes, but today they had acted like the two biggest idiots in the world, apparently. »It's okay … I was an idiot too, I guess.« With that, Kurt walked towards Peter's bed and sank on the edge. Peter was beside him faster than he could process it, but still, Kurt took his time to crawl under Peter's large blanket and wrap his arms around his own pillow.

»No« Peter suddenly sighed as he dragged his body further onto the bed and rested his back against the headboard, looking down on him. »I really mean it, Kurt. It wasn't my right to tell you what to do. I know that - and not just because Jean tormented me with a headache the entire day. If you feel better when you conceal your true form, I can respect that. It's not my choice. And if you like it more and feel more comfortable, I will support you. I just … I want you to know that you don't need that.«

»Because I look _cool_ , yes, I know.« He sighed. But it was not the look he was going for because he was not looking cool as in cool like James Dean or Michael Jackson, but cool like weird, like a freak, like a circus attraction.

»No« Peter rubbed his eyes at a sudden loss for words. »No, that's not what I mean … I mean you do look cool … I just … You don't have to try and look normal to be normal, okay? No one here looks at you like a freak or some strange animal in a zoo. The people here like you - a lot more than they like me, that's for certain, Kurtie. The people here respect you and they admire you. _I_ admire you. You don't need camouflage to fit in. You don't need to fit in at all. You are beautiful just the way you are and you are unique and special and I hate it that you want to hide that fact about you just because you think that others frown upon you. Because, let me tell you, everyone who frowns upon you or teases you, will get taped to the roof, my dear blue friend.« Peter could talk just as fast as he could move. The words sputtered out of Peter’s mouth so fast that it was almost hard to understand him and yet Kurt felt his entire body turn purple.

The childish part of him wanted to ask Peter if he really meant what he had said if he was beautiful in Peter’s eyes, but he rather pressed his lips together into a thin line and pulled the blanket higher. Never in his life had anyone told him that they liked the way he looked.

»But I mean … Well … Do not take any advice from me, I guess. It's not like I'm any different. I'm hiding myself too behind a false front, right?« Peter scoffed in his usual attempt of sounding nonchalant and unfazed.

»What do you mean?«

Peter made a small grimace and rolled his eyes before he sighed, apparently annoyed with himself. »My name isn't Peter, okay? I'm Pietro. But since people in the suburbs are mean-spirited assholes, I decided that I want to be called Peter instead. Only my mom calls me Pietro.«

»So … I wouldn't be allowed to call you that too?«

»Maybe I could make an exception for you … as long as you never hide yourself from me, deal?«

Kurt sighed, but with a small grin, he freed his right hand from under the blanket and shook Peter's hand to seal the deal. »Deal.« He smirked. »It was awful anyway. The whole day I had people staring at me and I don't know why. I felt even smaller than usual, more like a freak.«

»They stare at you because you are hot, Idiot.«

First, Kurt wasn't too sure that he had heard what he had heard, but as it started to dawn on him, he would have liked to be swallowed whole by Peter’s bed. Hot. He was hot? Despite the fact that he had still not managed to figure out what Americans really meant by calling someone hot (the same was true for the adjective adorable), he was certain that Peter had to have bad eyes for calling someone like him this. »I'm not. But thank you for lying, I will pray for your soul, Pietro.« Kurt grinned sheepishly and bared his teeth at him in the process.

»But I'm not lying.« Peter smirked as he finally crawled under the blanket himself, but stayed on his back, unlike Kurt, who preferred to sleep on his right side, his tail dangling from the bed. »You are hot. Just ask Jean or Jubilee or Ororo, they will tell you. I'm sure you had a lot of girlfriends in the past. Probably one in each city the circus visited.«

Kurt gently punched his shoulder as Peter laughed at him. To him, this seemed to be all a game and although he should be affronted, he couldn't help but laugh himself about this ridiculous situation. In the past, in the circus, everyone had treated him like an asexual piece of equipment and no one, not even Stefan, had even assumed that he would have any chance with the ladies. Somehow it felt good that Peter thought differently about him.

»So you never had a girlfriend?« Peter then asked him a little more direct and with huge, owlish eyes as he finally turned on his side to face Kurt directly, their faces mere centimeters apart by now.

»No, of course not.«

The surprise on Peter’s face seemed to be honest. »You tell me you never had a girlfriend, really? Wow. Don't tell me you have never been kissed before either!«

»Of course not!« Kurt replied and if he could turn red, his whole face would look like a tomato as of right now, instead, it only got darker and he thanked the heavens that it was dark inside the room anyway, except for the light that came from the still running TV.

»We have to change that, then.« Peter decided and before Kurt could say anything or even do anything about it, before he could even understand the situation or what Peter meant, the lips of his best friends were upon his, pressing lightly like feathers against his own mouth as Peter’s right hand had taken a hold of Kurt’s neck so that he could not escape. Kurt stared ahead with large eyes, but his whole body was frozen and he was not able to fight against the attack. The kiss did not last long - a part of his brain mourned that fact, but Kurt was not yet ready to register this emotion - and as they broke apart, Peter was wearing the same dorky grin he always had when he had pulled a prank on someone before he turned on his back again. »Now that this is settled, you are free to go into the world without fear, young Padawan. We couldn't have let you go outside without being kissed at least once, could we?«

※※※※※※※

Peter could still feel the hands that had forced him away from Kurt’s side in a matter of mere seconds, now as he was burying his face in his hands. He still did not know who it had been dragging him out of the room as the machines had started blaring and the waves of data going crazy, but he knew that it was Scott who sat on his left-hand side on the bench in the hallway now and he knew that it was Ororo who was pacing up and down the same hallway while Jean was talking in a hushed voice to Jubilee.

Despite the fact that he was surrounded by his friends and teammates in this dire situation, Peter felt incredibly alone and isolated. Scott’s awkward pats on his shoulder did not help either, but he did not wish to tell him and demotivate him in his sorry attempts at being a good friend for once. Perhaps this was not fair. Scott was a good friend. He always tried his best to help and be there for others. He had been one of the few people in this school who had not raised his eyebrows at him and Kurt as they had first gotten together but accepted them right away as a couple. Then again, it had been Scott who had bought them hideous matching t-shirts which Kurt had loved and forced him to wear. It had been his revenge for the teasing Peter had done before aimed at him and Jean. If Kurt would just wake up, he would gladly wear those ugly ass t-shirts again.

But his heart was filling his brain with all kinds of dark and gloomy visions of a future without _the incredible Nightcrawler_ at his side, the longer he was forced to sit outside of the room in his own purgatory.

The night had already spread out its heavy blanket over the school as Peter walked down the hallway with a cup of coffee in his hand. He hardly felt the burn of the hot ceramic mug. Though most students were unfazed by the things happening in this part of the building, Peter could feel that his teammates, including the older X-Men, were in turmoil. He found himself stopping in front of a window, right outside of Kurt's room. Despite the darkness, he could see the dark clouds gathering on the horizon and the air was stuffy and uncomfortable moist. A storm was coming and Peter, for the first time in his life, feared that this storm would not bring the anticipated relief he needed so badly, but only made things worse.

As he sipped on his cup he immediately burned his lips and muttered a small curse under his breath, but it was not the shock of the burn that almost made him drop his mug, but what happened next. »I'm afraid that I have not told you the entire truth.«

In all honesty, Peter was not surprised to have Mystique walk out of the shadows behind him like a ghost in a badly written adult novel. He could see her reflection in the window he was staring out of and only slowly turned around. Maybe she had waited for him, maybe she had spent her time looking through the window into Kurt’s room, watching her son. He was still alive, for now, but his condition had worsened. He had suffered another aneurysm. _Another_. The word still refused to make sense to him. Peter was not allowed inside. No one was, except the doctor and Professor McCoy. No one would say it, but when things got so bad that not even Peter was allowed entry, then the chances of Kurt's survival were now slim to none existent. For now, Peter could only wait outside, stare out of the window, throw glances through the window of the room his boyfriend was kept in under strict surveillance, drink a crap ton of the coffee that Ororo kept making for him and be tormented by his thoughts and fears.

He felt as if he had aged by years in this past week. If he wouldn't already be gray, he would turn gray now most certainly.

»You need to be more precise, _Mystique_. You never quite tell the truth, so please explain which of your many lies you mean.« Peter snarled. He did not care that this woman was the mother of his boyfriend. To him, she was nothing like this and she most definitely did not deserve to have any part in Kurt's life.

As he looked at the face the woman in front of him had chosen, he was surprised to see something like remorse flicker over her face. She was wearing her favorite blonde form, as she did most days. Even a woman like her who could be anyone would choose a form she liked best as default eventually, as it appeared. And of course, she would choose a flawless mask, unlike her son, who was not allowed to choose that easily. For a moment, Peter recalled the day Kurt had first used an image inducer and how uncomfortable he had looked the entire day whenever Peter had been able to spot the black haired, lanky, pale teenager in the halls.

She brushed a few strands of blonde hair out of her face before she crossed her arms in defiance, only to uncross them again and shove her hands into the pockets of her jeans as if unsure what to do with them. »I did not throw him into the river.« She finally huffed as if telling an uncomfortable truth when in reality she was redeeming herself. »It's true, I did not want him. It's true, he was inconvenient at that time. But I did not throw him into the river. It was an accident. I was chased through the woods, I stumbled and Kurt flew right out of my arms and into the river. There was nothing I could have done about it.«

»How convenient. He _flew_ out of your arms. Sure.« Peter scoffed and would have almost burned his tongue again on the coffee had his brain not reminded him of the fact that it was indeed hot. »If this is your attempt of redeeming yourself and make yourself look better in case Kurt dies, then it's a really sorry one.«

»It's the truth and whether you believe me or not, does not concern me. All I want is that my son gets to know the truth and that he will not remember his mother as a monster who threw him away. I tried to follow him stream upwards, but I lost him again and again. I can only assume that his father saved him. And when I finally found the circus near the river, I saw my son with this woman and how lovingly she looked at him. She looked at him like a mother should look at a child and I knew that he would be better off with her than he could ever be with me.« Finally, she leaned her back against the wall next to the window leading into Kurt's room. She looked exhausted.

»I was never meant to be a mother and I always knew this.« She said with a look of defiance on her face. »Still, I thought about him a lot. I wondered what he looked like while growing up, I wondered if they were treating him good and I hoped that they wouldn't treat him like just another circus attraction but a member of their family. He is a good kid and as I first saw him in this cage fight in East Berlin, I was horrified. I recognized him right away, not just because of the way he looks or because he is a teleporter like his father, but I _felt_ that he was my son. I did not care for Angel as I did what I had to do. I did not care for his injury. I just wanted to get him into safety. First, I did not even want him to go to this school because I feared that Charles would find out and that I would have to see him more often if I would visit. I knew that I would feel drawn towards the school more regularly if I would know my son would be there. So, I did not want to know where he was. I wanted him to get as far away as possible without knowing where to find him. But in the end, I couldn't and I had to bring him here, into safety. And then he was thrust into battle with all of you kids like we were back when we were your age and I couldn't just stay put and do nothing about it. I did not just join the fight because of Erik or because of Charles. I did it because I couldn't stay out of it and not be there in case he would need me.«

The ghost of a smile brushed over her face as she glanced through the window and then lowered her eyes to the floor. »Hell, I always thought I was so tough, you know? I always thought I was unbreakable, without fear. But I still remember the moment those assholes threw him out of a wooden box like a dangerous animal. I still remember the look of absolute terror on his face as he saw the people and the cage and the other boy. In this moment, I knew not only that he is my son, but that he is no fighter. He does not like to fight, but he is good in fighting and because of that he does it. And now he lies in this bed and will most probably never wake up again and I can never tell him all of this.«

Even though he felt like she was speaking the truth for the first time in a long while, Peter could not swallow the anger he felt towards her. »Then why are you telling me? Am I a substitute for telling him? Or do you think I grow soft and put in a good word for you? Your little sob story does not change a thing.«

She did not get to answer this time as the sound that Peter feared so much was ringing in his ears again. The machines around Kurt's bed were going out of control and despite everything, despite the warnings, this time, Peter burst into the room as fast as he could and there was no one who could stop him. It took him only as much time as it took his mug to shatter on the ground and spill coffee everywhere outside of the room to get in there.

Everything happened so quickly and yet to him it was only slow-motion. And yet, despite that fact, he was unable to do anything about what was happening. He could only run to the bed, see how Kurt’s body was convulsing on the mattress, listening to the alarm that was going off, hear the choking sounds erupting from Kurt. He wanted to help him - somehow, but he did not know what to do and within an instant, there was someone pulling at him, people in white coats gathering around the bed and a voice demanding him to go outside again. The voice was outside of his head. The voice was inside his head.

He couldn't move. He felt the impulse, knew that someone wanted to control his body, knew that someone was pulling him, but his body was frozen into stone and all he could do was watching Kurt’s face every time he got a glimpse of it. And then he felt a strike of lightning shoot through his body. Or was it outside the window where the storm had arrived at the school and was now raging overhead? Kurt's eyelids were fluttering as if revived through the electricity outside. When his eyes flew open, Peter was out of the grip of the person who had wanted to remove him from the room within an instant and right back at Kurt's side, shoving away whoever stood in his way.

Peter Maximoff was sure that he would never forget that very moment, as the tube was removed from his boyfriend’s throat, as he coughed and looked around in drowsy confusion now that his body grew tired of moving again, as the doctor was checking his pulse with confusion written all over his face, as Kurt opened his mouth to speak after one, long week in darkness.

»What did I miss?«

 

**-End of Chapter 9-**


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Porn, I guess? And a bit story too.
> 
> Translation:  
> Liebchen - the cutified version of Darling (Liebling)  
> Na ganz toll - Well, great (sarcastic)  
> Guten Morgen - Good Morning  
> Freunde - Friends  
> Weißt du? - You know?  
> Das ist doch Mist - Bullshit

**1985 - Xavier’s School for gifted youngsters, New York**

It was a miracle that he was still alive. As the year ended, Kurt was able to reflect on this fact for the first time. It was not that he did not know how lucky he was to be still alive. He was very aware of that fact. Still, fully it had sunken in just recently, as the year started dying and the first snow started falling.

Five months had passed since the explosion and the coma and Peter had never been clingier than in the past five months. Not that he would complain.

»It's cold.« Kurt sighed as he glanced at the wide open window on the other side of the room. The night hung low over the institute and drowned the room into darkness, except for the moonlight streaming in.

»No, it's not.« Peter hummed and only made himself a little more comfortable, burying his face into Kurt's shoulder a bit more. »Am I not warming you?« His breath was tickling his neck and Kurt could not suppress the little shiver running through his body.

»No.« He chuckled and tried to wiggle free so that he would be able to close the window or at least to pull the blanket over their naked bodies. It was impossible. Their bodies were entangled in such a way that he could hardly even get his tail free and since both of their bodies were still ickily covered in sweat, the cold wind streaming in made it all the colder - at least for Kurt.

»I should change that then.« There was no way to stop Peter when he had made up his mind and so, with a jolt, Peter was on his back and had pulled Kurt with him so that, inevitably, Kurt had to straddle his hips. Even in the darkness in their room, he could see Peter’s ridiculous grin as he placed his own blue hands on Peter’s naked chest. A few years ago, Kurt might have felt embarrassed to be in a position as this, sitting naked on another man’s hips, feeling Peter’s groin press firmly against his own butt as if it was the most normal thing. It had taken him awhile to get comfortable with this relationship and the sole fact that he was indeed gay. It had not been as strongly portrayed in Germany - or at least Kurt had not noticed it - as it was in the US that being gay was considered a crime against nature and something only to be seen on TV. Being gay was strictly reserved for creeps in dark alleyways and run down toilets, or the bloated corpses of AIDS-victims.

Yet, being with Peter, felt right to Kurt.

»So what now?« Kurt chuckled and pinched his sides. »Should _I_ do all the work now? I thought _you_ wanted to warm _me_!« He drummed his fingers on Peter’s chest as he generally liked to do whenever he got the chance. He loved the way how firm Peter’s chest was. Yes, they had grown in the last two years, not only in skill or knowledge but also physically. Even he, the lanky elf, had become stronger - if not really buffer. He would forever be an acrobat, but all the more he liked to brush his fingertips over the dips and valleys of Peter’s torso only to have him tense his muscles a bit more to make his muscles more prominently. As if he would need to still woo him.

»Why, yes, I’m old, _Liebchen_.« Peter grinned. That was his personal excuse for everything for the last five months. He always complained that he had aged by at least ten years since the accident. Of course, behind his jokes, he was hiding the honest fear of losing Kurt. He knew this. He did not need their friends to tell him about how Peter had never left his side. » _And when the rain begins to fall, I’ll be the sunshine in your life_ « Only Pietro Maximoff could think of stupid songs in a possibly sexy situation like this, but still, Kurt could not help but grin a little and mischievously rock his hips against Peter.

»I will never forgive you for that boom box incident.« He grinned, but Peter only wiggled his eyebrows at the response. Only when Kurt pointed the tip of his tail at Peter’s nose, Peter rolled his eyes, grabbed him by the waist and flipped their position once more.

»Happy now, Blueberry?« He hummed as their faces were mere inches apart now and his breath ghosting over Kurt’s face, while he was resting his underarms to each side of Kurt’s head on the mattress.

Somehow Peter always managed to get what he wanted when he would grin at him like this and by now, after two years, Kurt grew tired of acting as if he would not like it. In the beginning, it had not been too easy for him to act according to his feelings. He had needed a lot of time to figure everything out, even talked to the Professor about his feelings for Peter, wondering if God would allow this relationship. A whole month he had let Peter suffer back then, escaping him as best he could, avoiding him every day more and more until he had finally found his answer. God was love in itself and if God had made him the way he was, if God had designed him to fall in love with another man, with Peter, then, he figured, there could be nothing wrong about it.

※※※※※※※

Most of their trysts in the past few months had been quick and rushed because of the constant fear of hurting Kurt or exhausting him too much after everything that had happened that was lingering in the back of his mind. Peter had always been a passionate lover and once he started going, once the thought had manifested itself in his mind like a virus, he was hard to stop. He knew this himself well enough to try and hold himself back as best he could most of the time and it was not as if he was a sex-crazed maniac either. It was just that being alone with Kurt had this effect on him.

And who could blame him? Who could blame him for being filled with this need of having Kurt beneath him writhing in pleasure when the blue devil would sit on his lap completely naked like he had just seconds ago?  

Only one thing was certain: Kurt Wagner was far from being innocent. He did not always make it easy for him when he would stare at him with those big yellow eyes, his full lips parted just enough so that he could see a hint of his sharp teeth. He did not even understand how beautiful he truly was in Peter’s eyes, he could not grasp how much he made Peter’s blood boil. Maybe that was all the more reason why it was so hard to resist him.

However now, in this instant, Peter took his time, after all, they had the whole night ahead of them still - despite what Kurt might say about needing to get up early because of school. He had promised he would warm him up and he would deliver on this promise.

Now that he was on top of him, he started kissing his way down the path of sensitive skin of Kurt's throat, grazing the perfect curve of his collarbone with his teeth and brushing his tongue lightly over the sharp lines that were edged into his skin. The low growl Kurt produced made him chuckle quietly against that perfectly smooth skin as he noticed how Kurt’s tail, which often enough had a mind of its own, was wrapping itself around Peter’s left leg. He loved the little sounds escaping from Kurt's throat and how his back was arching ever so gently as Peter's mouth continued down-down-down his throat and his body, exploring paths he had not taken before, following the lines on his skin, as if there would be something new to find every time. As Kurt tried to rise against him, Peter pushed him down on the mattress again with a little more force than he would usually administer so that his tongue and lips and teeth could continue devouring every valley and every rising of the muscles of his abdomen and his perfect chest. His lips grazed over scars, some fresh, some old but he tended to every little one of them, searching for everything that was maybe different from what he was used to on Kurt's lanky body and found nothing, only shadows of the past nightmares he had gone through. And he knew every story behind every scar be it little or big.

Lower and lower his mouth went and he enjoyed feeling and hearing Kurt holding his breath in anticipation of Peter's tongue moving to where he really wanted it, even though he would never say it, only so he could jerk in surprise and mutter a sweet little curse as a teasing nip was delivered to his inner thigh. Peter could not help it. He loved how Kurt's long legs felt and how they tasted. His right hand already forcefully gripped his right thigh to lift the beautifully shaped leg above his own naked shoulder and when he moved closer to the body so openly welcoming him, he could feel how Kurt's heel dug into his shoulder blade to draw him closer-closer-closer to lure him into pleasure, instead Peter bit down on the tender flesh of his inner thigh once more.

»Peter-« Kurt tried to protest, but the deep moan escaping lips stopped him instantly, engulfed in the feeling of the open-mouthed, sloppy kisses, which Peter used to cover the blue skin of the mutant beneath him. » _Please-_ « Kurt tried once more only to gasp loudly, his head falling back onto Peter's pillow as his lover's mouth finally engulfed his aching arousal, silken heat, and licentious pleasure. He could feel Kurt fight to hold still, to control his revolting body, but he could also feel how his efforts became an increasingly difficult struggle against his own inner demons as Peter slyly applied his tongue along the ridge of his cock, following it with the slightest, the gentlest, the most careful scraping of teeth over silk.

It became quite obvious that Kurt could not resist bucking into his mouth, his left hand reaching down to tangle his fingers in Peter's grey hair and pull it roughly, causing Peter to growl deep in his throat, but neither loosened Kurt his grip, nor did he let him go, but when Peter glanced up a little he devoured the sight of him biting his bottom lip only to contain his moans as he finally gave up and decided to let the sensations consume him, with not a care for who might hear them. The only thing that mattered was the feeling of the pressure building rapidly inside Kurt, winding tighter and tighter and tighter, his fingers clutching Peter's hair harder in a silent warning of what was soon to come. As if he needed one.

Peter understood and Kurt did not need to spell it out for him, but he continued the wicked machinations of his mouth anyway until he heard that lovely breathless cry that he had grown to love so much and had yearned for when Kurt finally came, his spine suddenly curving upwards in his release. In the past, before they had first gotten together, Peter had only speculated how having sex with Kurt would be like, he had only tried to fantasize just how flexible the former acrobat really was, but Kurt had soon proven to him that Peter had known nothing at all with this devilish smile of his.

Peter sat up, licking his lips absently to not waste a single drop of what Kurt had offered him as tribute after he swallowed thickly. He was still painfully aroused himself when he crawled back up to kiss the teen lying exhausted underneath him, but the moment his sneaky fingers tried to grab for the blanket to throw it over them and distract him with a full mouthed kiss, Kurt groaned and pushed him back almost violently.

Peter would never make the mistake of underestimating Kurt’s strength, even now, after weeks and months of bed rest and without training, yet he was surprised once again over the power Kurt possessed all of the sudden.

Peter had no chance to get up fast enough after he landed on his back and almost hit his head on the edge of the nightstand until Kurt was on top of him once again. »Let me take care of you.« Kurt commanded with this toothy grin of his plastered on his face, even though he still was a bit breathless from his recent orgasm – not that it would be the first today, and most certainly not the last either - at least not if Peter would have his way.

Peter could not help but grin and bite his bottom lip when he cushioned his head on his right arm, feeling the hot groin of the younger male brushing over his own stone hard cock when Kurt reached out for the nightstand and the lube that was still standing there from previous activities. Outside, the first flakes of snow were falling from the sky again to smother the world under a thick white blanket as Kurt's long toes dug into the mattress beneath Peter.  His moan was husky with suppressed desire, when he watched Kurt preparing himself with the lube they kept next to their bed (hidden most times, so nosy friends, teachers or other students would not find it), his own slick fingers disappearing intriguingly again and again until he was satisfied with the result. He did not do it because he really needed to, after all, they had had sex not even two hours ago, he only did it to drive Peter mad, to make him moan and writhe in pleasure without even touching him.

Oh, that little devil knew exactly what he was doing and he was far from being the innocent, adorable _cutie_ everyone always saw in him outside of this room. Kurt was a showman. For their friends he liked to portray the innocent, Catholic boy who was scandalized by even mentions of sex, in here he was fully aware how to use his body to get what he wanted. He knew full well, that Peter was watching his skilled fingers preparing himself, working himself open for him. Kurt liked to tease him, liked to make a show out of it. He could be much more of a theatrical diva than anyone would expect - at least in this regard. Yet, Peter was unable to look away, even more so when Kurt finally sank down onto Peter's impatiently waiting cock with a satisfied grunt, his eyes fluttering shut.

Peter rocked his own hips to meet him, his hands settling on Kurt's waist to steady him as he took his cock deeper and deeper inside him. It was quite hard not to use too much pressure on Kurt and every time he did, he was afraid he could hurt him. It was almost impossible to concentrate on not grabbing him too hard by his hips or going too fast, especially as Kurt then decided he was comfortable enough and started to ride him, panting as he enjoyed the sweet pain and the little burn of Peter's thick cock plunging into him, ripping him open and filling him to his own desire.

Their hips rolled together, synchronized in mutual pleasure. Kurt's short nails dug into the flesh of Peter's flat stomach, into his muscles while he steadied himself to fasten his pace, moaning as if the last time he had had sex laid back ages. It wasn’t long until Peter had to sit up straight on the mattress, crossing his legs underneath himself to have Kurt sitting more comfortably on him. He needed to be closer - unbearably close almost. He needed to wrap his arms around him more, pull Kurt against him without protest as the devil had no other option as to wrap his own long legs around him.

The heat radiating from Kurt was almost too much and finally, Peter couldn’t stand it anymore, the sensation of Kurt's body welcoming his, Kurt's skin against his own, the little drops of sweat running out of Kurt’s hair – close enough that Peter could easily count each and every little one of them – the sound of those deep immoral moans coming from the deep of Kurt's throat, and when he finally lost it and came deeply engulfed inside his lover, Kurt continued to ride him through his orgasm, as he was being filled with Peter's release, some of it lazily dripping down those beautiful thighs.

As they later laid side by side in their messy bed, Kurt was eager to curl around him as much as possible, shivering as the cold wind was coming through the open window. Peter liked it to sleep with the window open - especially when it meant Kurt would be extra close in search of warmth then.

※※※※※※※

The next morning came with a cough escaping his lips. His throat felt sore and as he moved his head to have a look outside the window from his position on Peter’s chest, he could see the thick layer of freshly fallen snow that was lying on one of the branches of the tree outside their room. » _Na ganz toll…_ « He murmured drowsily against Peter’s warm skin as he let his head fall back in its previous position.

The quietude of the room that was only disrupted by the little snores that escaped Peter’s mouth every now and then, did not last long, though. There was a very different kind of noise coming from the door and only as it was repeated, Kurt grew aware of what it really was. Carefully, as if confronting a monster from a horror movie, Kurt raised his head again to turn it and look to the door, although he already knew what was waiting for him. He did not even felt the need to bother and act embarrassed as he was staring straight into Jean’s face. She leaned in the doorframe, her arms crossed and her long red hair tied into a neat ponytail as she was taking in the sight of the two young men on the bed, barely covered by their blanket. Well, wouldn't be the first time that one of their friends had found them like this because any of them had felt the need to wake them up for some reason.

» _Guten Morgen_ « Just because he was sleepy, did not mean that he would forget his manners. »Is something wrong?« Usually Jean would not barge into a situation as this without reason. For a second, he was sure that they had overslept but a glance at his alarm clock told him that they still had half an hour left before his alarm would go off - and an hour before Peter’s would go off. Kurt was sure that there had to be a country somewhere in the world that would punish anyone who dared waking other people up before they had to get up.

»The Professor asked me to get you before school starts.« Jean smirked as Kurt drove a hand through his messy hair. »You’ll find him in his office. He’s waiting, so better not waste time. And you really shouldn't sleep with the window open like this, you know? One of you guys will catch a cold like this.« Kurt was almost tempted to throw his pillow at her face, but he rather stuck his tongue out. That made Jean disappear just as well as a thrown pillow with a shrill little giggle. At least she had the decency to close the door behind her as she walked off chuckling. Surely she would go straight to her own boyfriend to tell him about the situation.

Kurt wanted nothing more than curl up against Peter again and hide under the warm blanket, but he had to accept his fate and the lingering cold inside the room as he, courageously, brushed away the blanket and swung his long legs over the edge of their bed. It took him a few minutes to find something to wear and get rid of last night’s evidence on his body - he could not do much about the hickeys Peter liked to mark him with, though - while Peter slept through it all like a stone.

On his way through the mansion, he only crossed paths with one or two younger students who greeted him with big smiles because they belonged to the group of teens that Kurt was teaching German to. He had never thought that those kids might be interested even in the slightest bit to learn a language as hard to learn as German, but the response had been quite overwhelming and the Professor had already offered him a position as a teacher at this school as soon as he would be finished with his own education. And Kurt did not see any reason why he shouldn't stay here and pay back what he had received in teaching himself. He couldn't go back to the circus anyway, could he? And, after two years of living in this mansion, he did not even know if he wanted to, despite the fact that he still felt homesick sometimes.

Maybe that was what the Professor wanted to discuss.

He was nervous, as he made his way down the familiar corridors, wondering what might be the reason the Professor wanted to see him. He was twenty years old by now, he was living in this mansion for two years, without parents to pay for everything he needed. The professor had taken him under his wings ever since Kurt had first set foot in this house and he was grateful, he wanted to give back. But, he also didn't want to overstay his welcome. The chances still stood that the Professor wanted to tell him that he should go back home, after all. Though Kurt was generally an optimistic guy, he had experienced so much crap during his life already that he found himself doubting his beliefs sometimes.

He paused at this thought and brushed his fingers over the cross that he wore on a thin necklace around his neck before he straightened his back. Now was most certainly not the time to doubt anything. His life was awesome, wasn't it? He had an awesome family, no matter that they were four thousand miles away from him. He had an awesome boyfriend who would pick the stars from the sky for him if Kurt would ask him to. He had awesome friends who always did everything in their powers to support him in his endeavors. He was allowed to learn at this institute from the brightest minds he had ever encountered. He was allowed to teach and to tribute to this institution. He was accepted for who he was without the need to hide his true self. There was no reason for him to question anything at all, so he wouldn't. Still, his heart was beating just a bit faster as he reached the office of Professor Charles Xavier.

»Come in, Kurt, I don't bite.« Though the Professor’s voice came muffled through the door, it could just as well have sounded in his head and it made Kurt jolt just the same, before he grabbed the doorknob, twisted it and entered the office. Doorknobs, in all honesty, were just another strange thing about this country. In Germany, they didn't use doorknobs as much on their doors and so Kurt sometimes still caught himself searching for a handle to open the doors.

The professor sat at the large window that was overlooking the park in his wheelchair with an old book on his lap, but his eyes rested upon Kurt as he entered the room and a warm smile crept on the Professor’s face. » _Guten Morgen_ « Kurt smiled in return as he closed the door in his back and joined the Professor close to the window. Charles Xavier gestured towards the armchair sitting across from him and Kurt hesitantly sat down.

»Good morning, Kurt. I am so glad to see you, despite the early hour. I am not an early riser myself, so I am sorry that I fetched you so early in the day. How are you?« Kurt was aware that this question was not the typical throw away greeting and that it did not aim for his general feelings too. The Professor regularly asked him how he was nowadays and that not only because he wanted to know how his healing process was going because for that he could just ask Professor McCoy. Sure, he was not fully healed yet, there was still a long way ahead of him until he would be able to start working out again and an even longer way before he would ever be allowed to think about participating in a mission again.

»It's okay, I'm an early riser.« Kurt brushed the Professor's concern off as politely as he could. »And to wake up Peter this early it needs a full blown marching band anyway.« The Professor smirked at this. »But I'm good, thank you. Well, my back still hurts - and it itches when it grows cold, so … well, it's itching constantly now.« He laughed with a short gesture towards the window and the snow covered park.

»I'm glad to hear that. We were all worried for you back then. And I hear that you are making great progress in your teachings as well. Your students are ecstatic. But, I already told you that I do think that you are a natural when it comes to teaching, right?« Kurt nodded with a shy smirk and he wanted to add that it was just because he was teaching something he had grown up with and that it wasn't as much effort for him anyway, but the Professor stopped him before he could even begin to do so. »I don't want to waste your time, Kurt. So, I guess I will cut straight to the chase here. You know that Raven will come back today, do you?«

He could feel his smile falter a little, but he nodded anyway. »Yes.« He murmured. Raven Darkholme. His mother. She had left the mansion the day after he had woken up from his coma without a word. The last thing Kurt knew was that she and Peter had had a fight right outside of his room in the early morning hours of that day and then she had vanished. By now he knew why, of course. Peter had barred the news to him a few weeks later. He had wanted Raven to tell Kurt herself, but since she had left, Peter had no longer been able to keep this secret from him and Kurt was thankful that Peter had told him the truth. Still, he would have liked to hear it from his own mother.

»How do you feel about this?« The Professor asked and grabbed Kurt's left hand to give it a short, reassuring squeeze. »I can imagine that it's not easy for you. If you want me or anyone else to be there if and when she decides to talk to you - or the other way around then-«

»It's not that I wouldn't have suspected it, you know?« Kurt sighed. It wasn't like him to interrupt anyone who was talking to him. It was not polite, but he was a little tired of people trying to protect him from everything since this incident. He appreciated that people worried about him and wanted to keep him safe, but it started to get ridiculous and Kurt was no damsel in distress either. He was able to fight his own battles. »I mean, the resemblance is uncanny, isn't it? And my father … Well … I can't say that I am proud that I'm the son of a terrorist, but I think that I have known already … deep down inside. I think I just didn't want it to be true, you know?«

»You have all the right to be angry with your mother, Kurt. I just want you to know that you are allowed to confront her, that you are allowed to show your frustration with her. She fled the confrontation with you yet again five months ago and she has given you away. You can say that to her.«

Kurt lowered his eyes on his knees and tried to think about it. Yes, he was angry. Yes, he was frustrated. Yes, he was sad. He knew what had happened. Peter had told him everything. Between them, there were no secrets. And while Peter was slowly developing a real relationship with his father, Kurt could not see this happening with him and his mother. »I know.« Kurt replied a little quieter than before.

The day went by too slowly for his own liking. While the day progressed, as usual, Kurt had a hard time focusing in class or staying in the present. Too often, he thought about the conversation he had had with the Professor and about the confrontation that way lying ahead of him still. He had decided that he would confront Raven a long time ago and he would not falter and leave it just because it would be hard. He wanted to know the truth. He had wanted to know it all his life and he had felt guilty for wanting to know the truth because he had had such a loving foster mother. To him it had seemed not right to ask such questions, it had seemed as if he was disregarding everything his mother had done for him. It had taken him years to understand that it was normal to ask such questions, that it was normal to be curious and that he would want to know where he came from. It was no one's fault that he did not like the result of this research.

He had looked up to Raven as much as his friends had. He had seen some kind of hero in her, she had saved him, after all, saved his life in this underground cage fighting club in East Berlin before those people could have shot and killed him. Peter had told him that she had said that she had recognized him in this cage fight immediately, but both of them were not so sure if it was the truth. Mystique was one of the biggest liars Kurt had ever encountered - and after growing up in a circus, that was quite the achievement to unlock.

»You look worried, Elf.« It was Scott who was directing this statement at him to everyone's surprise because Scott, though a good and very compassionate friend, was not good in picking up on certain vibes. Still, it was Peter who pulled him closer to have Kurt rest his head against his shoulder. Since they could not have their study sessions outside anymore, they had gathered in the south study in front of the large fireplace, one of the last remnants of the former home this mansion had been before the Professor had converted it into a proper school. Kurt was sitting on Peter’s left-hand side on the sofa, next to him sat Jubilee, focusing on her math book with an intensity as if she tried to set it on fire just by staring at the pages. Jean sat with her legs up on an armchair to Kurt's left, Scott had made himself comfortable on a few pillows on the ground and Ororo had bailed on them. She was apparently trying to catch a cold so that she would not need to attend the history exam tomorrow. In a few days, all their exams would be forgotten and the winter break would roll around and empty out these hallways.

Kurt had already thrown his English book to the ground with a frustrated groan. He would never get all of this into his head anyway.

»Our wonderful, beloved mentor, the great and mysterious Mystique comes back today after she fled like a coward five months ago.« Peter scoffed as he brushed his fingers through Kurt’s hair, but Kurt only rolled his eyes. Peter was much better in articulating his contempt.

»Oh.« Typical Scott.

»It's okay, really.« Kurt sighed. »It's not like it's going to change anything…«

»How do you feel about seeing her?« Jean asked over the edge of her book as if she could not tell from reading his mind anyway. Kurt could see her becoming a professional therapist and asking those questions despite already knowing the answer only to see if people were lying in her face.

»I'm fine, really guys. I had had more than enough time to stomach the truth, right? I mean … I'm not a child anymore.« Although being not a child did not directly correlate with the ability of stomaching such revelations.

»If you need help or want someone to stay with you-«

 _»Freunde_ , really, I can do this alone. You don't need to protect me from my own shadow, you know?« With that, he rose, much to Peter's displeasure. »I forgot something in the library, I better get it, otherwise I will never be able to understand all of this!« It was a blatant lie, of course, and since he was a terrible liar, everyone could see that. Still, he used it to get out of the situation and just be alone for a while.

Instead of going to the library, he teleported into his room to put on a jacket, mittens, scarf, and hat before he teleported outside. He wanted to go for a walk despite the snow to get his head clear. He was not used to staying indoors so much anyway. Still, he felt guilty that he had left his friends like this.

He loved his friends dearly - and especially Peter, of course - but he was tired of the worried looks he had gotten ever since the topic of Mystique’s return to the school had come up this morning. He was tired of the concerned questions as if he was about to have a mental breakdown just because his biological mother would return today. They must think him to be quite weak in spirit if they thought he would have a nervous breakdown when meeting her again. Of course, he had to admit that the prospect of seeing her for the first time as his mother, did not fill him with joy. Yes, he felt anxious, but he had been through worse and he had had five months to mentally prepare for this day. And despite everything, he would much rather confront her alone without overly protective friends or the professor who would look at her with disapproving eyes for leaving like she had. This was something between Kurt and her and he knew that he would never get to hear the truth with his friends as backup.

Outside the air was blissfully cuttingly cold and reminded him of the circus. Sure, winter had always been hard on them and their caravans had barely been able to really keep out the cold, while the heaters had been expensive and sometimes cause for danger, but Kurt had liked it when the snow would fall and drown everything in white. They had been freezing between their shows, but it had made them all the more eager to do their absolute best to warm up their bodies in the process.

With skilled ease, Kurt jumped up on the old stone balustrade with the beautiful little columns which were so familiar to him. Despite the war and the damages, Germany had suffered, there were still many relics of long forgotten times left to marvel at. During his childhood, he had dreamed of the fairy tales the castles and palaces seemed to tell. Reality was much less romantic though. He was still weak on his legs. His injuries had been so severe that he had been trapped in bed for almost two months and even after that Professor McCoy had demanded him to use a wheelchair. His back, his ribs, his left leg, his left hip and even his pelvis had been broken and it was pure luck that he was able to walk at all by now. Kurt knew that he needed to be careful and to not overstrain his still healing body, but he craved adventure, he craved playing tricks on others. He craved showing off his skill, though, of course, blatancy could be considered a sin - one he had not mastered yet. Then again, he was a showman, so why shouldn't he behave like one? Looking back on it now, it was really no surprise that he had fallen for Peter. They were much alike in this department.

Kurt made a point of testing his balance as he was walking across the balustrade, even trying a little flicflac, even though it was hardly a challenge for someone who was used to walking a tightrope without a safety net. Still, as he saw the figure that was waiting for him next to the staircase that was leading down into the park, he almost fell.

»I suppose you hate me for giving you away and never telling you the truth.« Raven Darkholme, Mystique, his mother, had chosen her favorite blonde self to confront him instead of her real face, which, in itself, was saying probably more about her character than she was aware. Kurt was not even surprised that he would meet her outside like this. It was not yet evening, although the sun would soon tint the world in a warm orange light, and he hadn't expected her to arrive this early. He wouldn't be surprised if no one yet knew about her early arrival either. Then again, it was hard to hide anything from Professor Xavier, he assumed.

Maybe, he thought, he had been drawn out here because he had felt that he would find his answers here in the form of Raven. The way she spoke to him was still as cool as ever, still as nonchalant as if she was talking about lunch and not about the fact that _a)_ she was his mother and was aware that he was aware of that fact, and _b)_ that she had indeed given him away and lived side by side with him for two years without telling him anything.

Kurt had always done his best to be a good person, a humble person, a nice person, a kind person, a thoughtful person, a compassionate person, still, it had never been harder than in this moment right here, as he stopped his little acrobatic exercise on the old stone balustrade that could break under his weight at any given time. As he looked at this woman, his mother, it was still hard for him to conciliate the word mother with Raven. Maybe his eyes were a bit colder than usual and if they were, it was not his intention. A part of him wanted to walk past her and leave her without explanation like she had done. Then again, he had wanted answers his whole life and definitely since he knew the truth. Why would he not use this opportunity to get answers now?

»No.« He said after a moment of hesitation in which he had tried to gather his thoughts and think of the right answer. But, he supposed, there was nothing like a right answer in a situation as sad as this. »But I am sad for you.« He had thought about Father Michael a lot today, and about the things he had taught him. Father Michael had been the one person who had taught Kurt about forgiveness, about being kind to others and to see the fragile human soul for what it really was. If he would be here with him now, he would tell Kurt that he should not be angry with his biological mother, that he should not hate her. And, in all honesty, he did not feel hate for Raven. This was the truth, despite the fact that many of his friends could not understand this.

» _Sad_?« Raven replied and a small chuckle escaped her lips before she turned into her real form and stared at him out of bright yellow eyes. He clearly got his mother’s eyes and under different circumstances, this thought would fill him with a sense of pride that every child felt when they first learned that they had certain attributes from their parents. »You want to talk about sad?« As she walked closer towards him and the balustrade, there was something aggressive in her tone and the way she was moving, as if to scare him off, yet, Kurt couldn't be farther away from feeling scared. Unlike his mother, he could always teleport out of danger anyway. »I am a shapeshifter, an outcast even among other mutants, trusted by no one!« In just a fragment of a second, he saw his mother turn into all different kinds of people, two of them, as if to mock him, even Peter and Jean. »I don't have a life of my own. I just steal little bits from other people's lives. But that's how I survive. So there's your truth, _Son_. You were inconvenient. I didn't want you. Still sad for me?«

Of course, the words stung like a thousand bees. Of course, hearing that his mother had not wanted him out of her own mouth as she turned back into the beautiful blonde woman she liked to show herself as, hurt. Maybe he was even heartbroken by her tone and the rigor of her voice. No one wanted to hear something like this. No one would want to hear from their own parents that they hadn't wanted them, that they had given them away, that they hadn't loved them. Kurt had been an inconvenience, he knew that. He had always known that, somehow. Still, hearing it, was a whole other story and all he really wanted to do was to teleport right back to his bed and never get up again. Hearing those words from his own mother, was worse than a punch to the guts.

Yet, he also knew what his friends had told him. He knew that she had often been there as he had been in a coma, outside of his room and that she had been there the night he had woken up, trying to get Peter out of the room so that the Doctor could do his work. If there was not a spark of love for him buried deep inside her chest, she wouldn't have been there. Maybe it was foolish to think that way and to dig his claws into this last shred of hope. But, well, he had always been a fool. It was the one card his real mother, the one who had raised him and comforted him and taught him everything, had always picked for him out of her tarot cards. Always the fool.

He took a deep breath before he chose the words of his answer with great diligence because he felt that it was important what he said next. He was not a child anymore. He was not the sixteen-year-old boy she had saved in Berlin. He was twenty years old now. He had lived the last two years in this mansion, even celebrated his seventeenth birthday only a few short weeks after he had first arrived here. This was now his home and he was a man now, a part of this facility, an X-Man. »I will beg God to bestow his grace on me, so that I may learn to forgive you.« He finally said as he jumped down from the balustrade to come to a halt right in front of his mother, but she only looked at him out of surprised eyes. »Then I will ask him to bestow his grace on you, so that you may learn to forgive yourself.«

The day had been much too long and straining for his liking. Outside a new wave of snowflakes were carried by the wind and pushed against the glass of the small bathroom window. He had set the heater on full blast inside the bathroom to dry his wet clothes. He had stayed out in the snow for much too long and now he felt frozen to the core as if the ice itself had found a way to seep into the marrow of his bones and leave ice crystals there.

He had used the chance to take a hot bath as Peter was not yet in their room and thus could not ask uncomfortable questions, but Kurt was aware that it was only a matter of time until his boyfriend would arrive - and time, in a relationship with someone like Pietro Maximoff, was a fragile thing anyway.

Still, as he heard the door of their shared room open, Kurt only sank deeper into the hot water until only his nose and eyes were still in the air. It did only take a second until the bathroom door was opened to reveal a very worried looking Peter. »There you are, Blueberry.« He sighed as he brushed a hand through his gray hair. His cheeks were red and made Kurt suspect that he had been outside in search of him. Idiot. »I was worried as you didn't show up for dinner. I brought you something for later. Well, it’s cold, but I could go and heat it up real quick if you want me to.«

Kurt couldn't help but roll his eyes before he sat up again and smirked. His tail was dangling over the rim of the tub and was only swaying just a little from side to side now. »Just come here any join me. You look like you are freezing.« It only took Peter about a nanosecond to join him and take position behind Kurt. In fact, the words had barely left Kurt’s mouth before a bit of hot water was spilling over the rim and onto the tiles. »You are aware that you could do that like every other person too, yes?«

»I was freezing.« Peter laughed as he closed his arms around his chest from behind and shortly rested his chin on top of Kurt's dark tuft of hair. If he would have to be honest, Kurt would probably admit that he was glad that Peter was here with him now and to feel his strong arms around him again, but, since no one forced him to be honest, he might as well act a little annoyed as he gently jabbed him in the ribs with his tail before letting it dangle over the edge again. He could feel that the question of whether Kurt had met his mother or not was burning inside of Peter, but that he seemed not to know if he should, in fact, ask the question or not.

»It was a long day.« Kurt sighed and even though he didn't say anything about the confrontation with his mother outside, he felt as if a weight was dropping off his shoulders - which would be good, would it not bring the sudden burning sensation in his eyes with it, or the fact that his throat and chest suddenly felt very tight. As if Peter would know what was going on inside of him, he brushed his left hand through Kurt's dark hair and pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of his head.

»It was.« He murmured softly. »But it's over now. You are here, I’m here. Everything is fine now.«

Though he nodded and tried a grin, he couldn't suppress the little hiccup escaping his throat. The day had been hard on him. He wanted to bawl his eyes out and hide under the covers like a small child, but crying wouldn't help him or the tight feeling in his chest now. He knew that it was not only the confrontation with Raven that had him so agitated. Everyone would leave in a few days to visit their parents, to go home for a few weeks and enjoy the holiday season. He would stay here because there was no family to go back to.

»It's not like I hadn't known that I was alone already, you know?« He mumbled quietly. It was unfair, maybe. He was not alone. He still had Peter and his friends and Peter would stay with him here for his mother had ended all contact with him anyway. They would stay here and celebrate Christmas and New Years with Professor Xavier and Professor McCoy, maybe with Erik, if he would show up. Still, he felt strangely alone now. »It's not like I would have missed her, you know? I had a mother. I had a family. I had people who loved me, at least I think they did.« Finally, the tears spilled over and he felt embarrassed as they were rolling down his blue cheeks. »But it still hurts. It hurts to hear that she didn't want me, that she gave me away just like this, that I was just an inconvenience for her. It hurts to know that she didn't care what would become of me and to know that she never wasted a thought on me again. What if my family hadn't been like they turned out to be? What if they would have treated me horribly? I know that they weren't perfect and that they used me to their own gain too, but at least I felt loved by them. But she … She just didn't care.«

With a frustrated sigh, he brushed away the tears from his cheeks while Peter remained silent behind him. »It's … I don't know. _Ach_ , I think it would be easier … it would be easier if she would have had different reasons, _weißt du_? It would have been easier if she had been forced to give me away. It would be easier to forgive her then. But I guess, this is a lesson I have yet to learn and it might be the hardest one of my life.«

»You are strong enough to conquer this goal.« Peter's voice was still soft and warm and though his words were not what he wanted to hear, they helped. Then again, there really was nothing he wanted to hear, nothing that would change the way he felt.

With a tired and exhausted huff as if he had been crying excessively for hours, he leaned back further into Peter's embrace and looked towards the window again. »I miss my mother.«

»Yeah … Me too.«

As Christmas rolled around, the mansion was decorated with all the festive glamor the Professor had hidden away in the attic. Peter and Kurt had taken it upon themselves to put up the vomit inducing fairy lights and garlands. And Peter had made sure that there was a mistletoe in almost every room to force Kurt to kiss him every few meters. Gladly, Professor McCoy had taken it upon himself to remove most of them. No single adult man would want to have canoodling teenagers around them during the holidays the entire time. Though Peter was Jewish, he was an opportunist when it came to festivities and would take everything that was thrown his way if it meant presents and fun - and eggnog. »I still don't understand why I'm not allowed to drink. I'm an adult.« Kurt pouted as they sat together around the Christmas tree on the eve of the twenty-fourth to chat and have a nice time. Even after two years in America, Kurt was still not used to celebrating Christmas on the twenty-fifth. Then again, the traditions were still largely the same. They would spend the evening sitting together, chatting, eating pizza, drinking (in the case of the _real adults_ , as they liked to call themselves to tease Kurt) and playing stupid games. The common room was ideal for this occasion and Kurt felt warm and fuzzy inside in his stupid Christmas sweater beside Peter on the comfortable couch.

»In America, you aren't allowed to drink until you are twenty-one.« Professor McCoy gently reminded him with a smirk on his face that clearly betrayed his intent. While Professor Xavier and Erik, who actually showed up in the late afternoon, were deeply engulfed in a game of chess, the other three men sat around the TV were some Western was running to everyone's delight.

» _Das ist doch Mist._ « Cursing in German made things a bit easier whenever he didn't want to be understood. »In Germany, we are allowed to start drinking beer and wine when we turn sixteen! And everything else after we turn eighteen. I am legally permitted to drink alcohol if I want in my home country, so give me the eggnog.«

Of course, no one did give him the eggnog for the rest of the evening but it had been worth the try. Raven was the only person of the group of which Kurt had been sure would be here for the holidays, who hadn't joined them. Maybe it was better like this, he thought. She had avoided him ever since their conversation and left soon after again. Maybe a part of him had liked to be able to talk to her again, but maybe he had already heard everything he needed to hear. She was still their mentor and she would probably go back to teaching them in the danger room when the time would come, but until then, Kurt was glad that he would not see her as much. It was easier to learn to forgive someone who wasn't there to remind him of their wrongdoings.

»Oh, before I forget.« It was Charles who suddenly turned his attention towards them before he rolled his wheelchair closer to the couch. »I know we exchange presents, not before the morning, but since these things are handled differently in your country, Kurt, I thought it would be nice if you would get to open your present a bit earlier.« Now the professor had him not only intrigued but honestly quite confused as he handed him a letter. Kurt didn't need to read the sender's address to know where it was from, still, he couldn't quite believe it. »Raven brought it with her as she arrived, apparently, but she gave it to me only before she left and asked me to give you the letter on Christmas. She, apparently, spend the months away from home in Germany to search for new mutants in need, like you back then - and in search of the circus and your family.«

The letter in his hand felt heavy and surreal as if it was just a prop in a play. He recognized his mother’s handwriting, still, it did not feel real. Kurt could hardly turn his eyes from the letter in his hand but did so anyway to look at the Professor again with wide eyes and his mouth open just slightly like a goldfish. Suddenly his brain felt just as empty as that of a goldfish too. »I don't know what to say.« He breathed, but Professor Xavier just squeezed his right shoulder.

»Merry Christmas, Kurt.«

 

**-End of Chapter 10-**


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